


Starting Over

by Annaelle



Series: Unbecoming Everything You Are Not [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asgard (Marvel), Avengers Family, Avengers Game Night, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Domestic Avengers, F/M, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Protective Avengers, Steve Rogers-centric, Steve's Terrible Flirting, Thor-centric, Time Skips, Trying (and failing) to move on, Unplanned Pregnancy, We're Getting Closer I Promise, people have Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 15:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 50,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21658981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annaelle/pseuds/Annaelle
Summary: Steve liked going for a run in the morning.When he and Becca had first moved to D.C., he had felt at a loss—he’d never really lived anywhere but in New York, and D.C. had felt like an unknown entity, nothing like the city he’d been born and raised in.Running in the morning had been something Karen the therapist had suggested when he’d originally confessed to feeling antsy and cooped up when there were no missions to be done, and no bad guys to fight.New York was not so very far away either, and when they wanted to visit Tony and the others, the flight there usually didn’t take them very long. Steve felt more settled here, and much less anchored in the past, than he had in New York, although it had taken him a long time to admit it.— Steve Rogers & Thor-centric. Stucky endgame (I swear). Canon Divergent. Avengers Family.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Loki/Thor (mentioned), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Pepper Potts/James "Rhodey" Rhodes/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson (minor and nothing real i promise), Thor/Rebecca Barnes (OFC)
Series: Unbecoming Everything You Are Not [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/917445
Comments: 30
Kudos: 51





	1. The One With The Mission

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the second-to-last installment of this series (probably, honestly, I didn't mean for there to be as many parts as there are already)! 
> 
> This fic is focused on both Thor and Steve's journeys, and sets the scene for the main fic, the one that follows this one, the one you've all been waiting for :) There are two chapters fully focused on Thor's journey, so should you wish to skip those, check the notes at the top of the chapter! I'll definitely mention them :) 
> 
> I expect I'll update this once a week (it's fully written) and hopefully will be able to upload the final installment after I've posted the final chapter of this one!
> 
> As always, much love and gratitude to my lovely Juulna, who dragged me through all of this, and kicks my ass into gear when it's needed. 
> 
> Let us know what you think! 
> 
> Love,  
Annaelle

**Starting Over**

** _Sometimes, the hardest part isn’t letting go, but rather starting over._ **

** _—Nicole Sovaugn_ **

# Chapter One

** _RUMORED CELEBRITY COUPLES WE ALL *HOPE* ARE REAL _ **

_The celebrity rumor mill is always churning. While it is mostly tittle-tattle, there are certain romance “news” items that, in our heart of hearts, we’re dying to be true. From co-stars with unbelievable chemistry to sure-to-be-legendary duos, here are the pairs we have our fingers crossed for. _

  1. **_ Nikki Reed & Ian Somerhalder _**

_[...]share a common interest in playing vampires—with Reed’s Rosalie in Twilight to Somerhalder’s Damon in The Vampire Diaries—but also have several common friends. Both are close with Nina Dobrev—Somerhalder’s ex-girlfriend—and Ashley Greene[…]supposed reports of their developing relationship since July, and they have adopted a horse together. _

_[…]as of yet no official confirmations have been made._

_[…]_

  1. **_ Natasha Romanoff & Steve Rogers _**

_[…] Rogers and Romanoff have been spotted out together on several occasions, ranging from coffee runs—such mundane activity for such extraordinary people—to trips to Coney Island and Avengers Tower[…]The outings have set many tongues wagging, implying a scandalous relationship between the Captain and his Avengers co-worker, despite official, repeated statements that Captain Rogers is still grieving his former life and is not interested in forming romantic attachments. _

_[…]Captain was also linked to former Army Captain Rebecca Barnes, before she confirmed her own relationship—see No 2 on this list![…]whatever is going on between Captain America and the women in his life, one thing is certain: we would all like to be rescued by this star-spangled man with a plan!_

_[…] _

  1. **_ Zac Efron & Leah Michelle _**

_[…]big surprise for everyone! These two have known one another for several years, but have recently been photographed packing on the PDA on a yacht in Italy in July[…]possibly nothing more than a summer fling, but a reliable source told E!online that Efron likes that she is laid-back and he can relate to her. He is, apparently, attracted to her great attitude, and they understand one another. _

_[…] _

  1. **_ Rebecca Barnes & Thor of Asgard _**

_This surprise couple accidentally got caught on camera in a picture posted to Tony Stark’s Twitter account on the 4th of July last year[…]emphasis on “accidental”, considering the couple was only barely visible in a corner of the picture that featured almost all of the Avengers. _

_[…]lo and behold, it clearly showed Rebecca Barnes, seated on a barstool next to who appears to be Captain Rogers, wrapped in an intimate embrace with none other than the Prince of Asgard, looking _real_ cozy together. Gotcha!_

_[…]picture remained on Tony Stark’s Twitter account without further comment from any of the Avengers for 72 hours before a press conference was held to confirm the relationship between the two, though insistences were made on their relationship remaining casual for now. “They’re having fun, they like each other, but neither of them wants to be in a serious relationship right now.” _

_Casual seems to be working for the couple though, because all appearances point to them still being together two years after their first press conference!_

_[…]only confirmed couple on this list! _

_—M.S. Sura, E! Magazine, « Rumoured Celebrity Couples », July 2013 _

_————————_

**Washington D.C., United States of America**

**August 9th, 2015 – 5:19 AM **

**Steve**

Steve liked going for a run in the morning.

When he and Becca had first moved to D.C., he had felt at a loss—he’d never _really_ lived anywhere but in New York, and D.C. had felt like an unknown entity, nothing like the city he’d been born and raised in. It was… It was _quieter, _in a way, less crowded and less intense than New York had been, and Steve had both hated and loved it with equal measure during their first few weeks there.

Running in the morning had been something Karen the therapist had suggested when he’d originally confessed to feeling antsy and cooped up when there were no missions to be done, and no bad guys to fight.

It’d become a way to blow off steam, to get rid of the horrid feeling of inactivity, and to get to know the city he’d be living in for the foreseeable future. Becca hadn’t really understood—nor had Steve expected her to, considering it would’ve involved leaving her bed before she absolutely had to—and though Thor, bless him, had done his very best to give it a try, he really didn’t understand the appeal of running without chasing something.

Steve, however, _loved_ it.

Running was one of the very few activities where he could let go of all restraint and just _go_, without having to worry that he was going to hurt someone, or break something irreparably. Running allowed him to test the very limit of the serum without truly having to worry, and it was a feeling so incredibly freeing it made him feel dizzy the first time he’d realized.

He’d learned to appreciate D.C. for its own merits, over time. He loved New York and he would always consider Brooklyn home in a way nowhere else could be, but here… Here he could walk down the street without getting pulled aside for selfies and autographs constantly. He could run for hours without paparazzi not-so-subtly trying to sneak pictures of him.

He could visit Peggy, who had—very reluctantly—taken up residence in a care home close to his and Becca’s house, after a nasty fall that broke the femur bone in her left leg in two places.

New York was not so very far away either, and when they wanted to visit Tony and the others, the flight there usually didn’t take them very long. Steve felt more settled here, and much less anchored in the past, than he had in New York, although it had taken him a long time to admit it.

Of course, it wasn’t like Steve loved everything about their life in D.C. He’d initially loved the job, and the way it gave him a sense of purpose in his life, but the intensity of some of the Agents put him off, and he decidedly disliked the way everyone had had set expectations of who and what he was supposed to be—both as a leader in the field and as a person.

He loathed the way Fury treated him sometimes, for that matter, like he was some dumb kid who didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. He hated when Fury sent him on missions with people who had their own missions, when he was expected to lead people who had their own agendas and their own timetables.

He especially disliked the agents that Fury had set to tail him at all times—he wasn’t supposed to know they were there, but it seemed they’d all conveniently forgotten he was good friends with the Black Widow and Hawkeye, and that he lived with Becca Barnes, who had the uncanny ability to spot agents, no matter how well they disguised themselves.

He hated them, but, over the course of the past four years of living in the 21st century, two of which he’d spent working with S.H.I.E.L.D., he’d learned to pick his battles. There were bigger things going on in his life than trying to figure out which hapless idiot they’d sent to try to tail him on his run today.

There was, for instance, a new guy—not an agent, Steve thought—running on his preferred route.

Steve didn’t tend to run the same route every day, because he’d get bored and probably run into a tree or something, and he didn’t quite fancy the idea of having to explain to Fury—or worse, _Tony_—why there were gossip rags with the headline “Captain America Can’t Handle Morning Wood” or something equally ridiculous.

Also, by changing up his route regularly, he was able to figure out how long it took S.H.I.E.L.D. to figure out where he was. The longest it had ever taken them was fifteen minutes, and Steve was pretty sure they’d only figured him out because he’d stopped to take a phone call from Becca.

This route, though, starting at the World War II memorial, crossing Inlet Bridge and going past the Lincoln and Jefferson Memorials, was one of Steve’s favorites to run. It took him past his favorite sites in the city, and ended whenever he ran past the cute little bakery a few blocks from the Holocaust Memorial Museum with the _best_ croissants he’d had on this side of the Atlantic. There weren’t usually a lot of people around at this time of morning, because Steve _could_ admit that he was slightly overzealous when it came to running in the morning—as in leaving before the sun was up, and not coming back until at least two hours later—and it was easy to notice when there was a new fellow maniac who liked to exercise before dawn.

Steve let his eyes trail over said new maniac’s back appreciatively.

He definitely _looked_ good.

He felt a pang of guilt—much less debilitating than the stifling sense of dread and guilt and horror it had once been—and shook his head, pushing himself to run a little faster, to pass this new, cute, unknown entity and leave him behind, because for all that Steve was doing pretty well, he didn’t think he was ready to acknowledge when he actively thought someone was cute.

It was different than when he went on dates because Natasha set him up. Those were nearly always women, and much as Steve appreciated Nat’s effort, they were _never_ into him for him.

That, in itself, was enough of a turn off.

The fact that they were absolutely never his type was just an easy excuse to give Nat when there were, inevitably, no second dates. This, though, he thought as he caught up to Cute Fellow Maniac… this felt different.

“On your left,” he bit out as he ran past New Cute Fellow Maniac, barely allowing himself a glance to look at the other guy, refusing to _see_, because that would mean he actively _liked_ someone who wasn’t Bucky, and he wasn’t sure he could do that.

He’d talked about that with Karen-the-therapist at length too.

After he’d seen Thor make an effort to let go of his promise to only ever love Loki, to give his relationship with Becca an honest chance, he’d wondered, because he’d been convinced that Thor was the only person Steve had ever met that understood.

He’d understood why Steve just… _couldn’t_.

Why the very thought of being in love with someone other than Bucky made him feel sick to his stomach, like he’d be betraying everything he had shared with Bucky, like he’d be making a mockery of Bucky’s memory if he did allow himself to move on. Going on dates with women had been much easier than this, because… well, they were _women_.

For all that Steve was hopeless when it came to flirting with them—or even just _talking_ to them—they didn’t run much of a risk of reminding him of Bucky. It wasn’t so very hard to not give them a chance.

He knew it was poor manners, to give a lady hope where there was none, but… it got his friends off his back, and it was _easy_ to let it all wash over him.

_Men_, though…

He knew Bucky would hate that Steve felt that way, and that he might even be insulted to learn Steve hadn’t tried to fuck his way through the 21st century in his name yet, because Bucky had been nothing if not a realist (and also a horny bastard), and whereas Steve had been—still was—optimistic enough to believe he could spend his entire life loving just the one person, Bucky had… Bucky had said things that made Steve think—now, in hindsight—that he’d never really believed he’d make it out of the war.

Maybe he’d always known Steve would, eventually, have to move on.

Steve sighed and slowed down, eyeing the split in the path that came up ahead of him contemplatively. The left branch would loop him back to roughly where he’d seen Cute New Maniac, and might give him a second chance.

The other…

“Come on, Rogers,” he told himself firmly. “Make an effort.”

He took the left path.

_————————_

**Washington D.C., United States of America**

**6.03 AM **

**Steve**

Alright, so _maybe_ he hadn’t stopped to talk to Cute New Maniac right away.

He watched, slightly amused, as the other man limped his way to a patch of grass and collapsed back against a tree, wheezing a little. Steve felt a little bad—_just a little_—but then, he hadn’t made the other man try to race him.

Honestly, after the third time Steve had lapped him, Cute New Maniac should really have realized that he wouldn’t actually be able to keep up with Steve even if he did try.

Which he did.

It hadn’t really gone his way.

“You need a medic?” he blurted before he could think about it, moving towards where the other man sat with a grin that was probably just the right side of smug. Steve felt a little gratified when the other man laughed, shaking his head a little before he replied.

“I need a new set of lungs.” He laughed and pushed himself up a little, glancing towards Steve with a smirk. “You just ran like thirteen miles in thirty minutes.”

Steve grinned a little.

It wasn’t like he could come right out and say he looped around four times with the express purpose of seeing Cute New Maniac again, so he shrugged, putting his hands on his hips in a way he _knew_ accentuated the contrast between his broad shoulders and narrow hips. “Guess I got a late start,” he quipped cheekily.

“Really?” Cute Maniac laughed. “You should be ashamed of yourself. You should—you should take another lap.” Steve couldn’t stop grinning, cheeks burning and heart pumping fast with exhilaration, even as the cute guy looked away for a second, before he looked back and rolled his eyes.

“Did you just take it? I assume you just took it.”

Steve outright laughed at that, shaking his head a little before he gestured to the dog tags that had slipped from underneath the guy’s sweater. “What unit were you in?”

He saw the minute stiffening of Cute Maniac’s posture before he relaxed again, and felt momentarily bad for asking, but before he could take it back, Cute Maniac replied, “58th Pararescue. But now I’m working down at the V.A.” Before Steve could do more than nod, Cute Maniac held out his hand, wiggling his fingers insistently until Steve grasped it in his and pulled him to his feet.

“Sam Wilson,” Cute Maniac—_Sam_, a voice in Steve’s head that sounded suspiciously like Bucky insisted—offered, smiling when Steve floundered a little.

“Steve Rogers,” Steve finally said, grinning shyly. This was usually the point where people either freaked out and started treating him like… well, like Captain America. Steve hadn’t hoped someone _wouldn’t_ this badly in quite a while.

“I kinda put that together,” Sam grinned, fingers lingering on Steve’s for a second longer than strictly appropriate, and Steve’s stomach _swooped_. “Must’ve freaked you out,” Sam continued, and Steve’s stomach _sank_, because he knew what those next words were going to be before Sam even said them out loud. “Coming home after the whole defrosting thing. “

Steve heaved a sigh and shrugged. “Took some getting used to.”

He swallowed thickly against the disappointment that curdled in his stomach and shot Sam a small, insincere smile. “It’s good to meet you, Sam.” He turned away before Sam could say anything that would make Steve’s stomach ache harder than it already did, because _of course_, the one time he decided to take a chance, the guy turned out like everyone else.

“It’s your bed, right?”

Steve stopped, turning around with no small sense of bewilderment as he looked at Sam. “What’s that?” he said cautiously, eyeing the other man nervously. He wasn’t sure if Sam was being dense, or if he was blatantly trying to come onto Steve, but it made him feel off-balance, and Steve _hated_ feeling off-balance.

“Your bed,” Sam repeated, raising both eyebrows. “It’s too soft. When I was over there, I’d sleep on the ground, use rocks as pillows.” Steve turned towards Sam fully, now intrigued and a little relieved, hoping he might’ve misjudged. “Now I’m home,” Sam continued, “lying in my bed, and it’s like…”

He shook his head, apparently at a loss for words.

“Like lying on a marshmallow,” Steve finally finished for him. “Feels like I’m gonna sink right through to the floor.”

Sam smiled a little and nodded.

It was a _cute_ smile too, damn him.

“How long?” he asked, eyeing Sam carefully. He figured he could get away with asking something similar to Sam’s earlier question, and it wasn’t that he doubted that the other man had served, but…

It just felt different _knowing_.

“Two tours,” Sam answered curtly, although he didn’t appear all that put out by the question.

Steve swallowed and nodded tightly. Though Sam hadn’t specified, from what Steve understood, two tours could mean anywhere from a year to eight years total, and Steve couldn’t imagine being out there for that long, even with a break in the middle, without losing his mind. It’d baffled him during the war too, seeing European soldiers of various countries that had been fighting for literal _years_ without stopping, refusing to give up.

He’d both admired them and felt incredibly sorry for them.

“You must miss the way things were,” Sam finally said, cautiously, as though Steve would explode if the past was mentioned. If this had been three years ago, Steve might’ve. He would’ve put on a brave face, but the reminder of the life that had been torn from him would’ve sent him spiraling and heading for the hills to lick his wounds in private, and he was mature enough—_now_—to know that.

As it stood, Steve had been in intense therapy since his breakdown four years ago, and he’d learned to deal with his grief in far more healthy ways.

“It’s not so bad here,” Steve shrugged. “Food’s _so _much better. I need to eat a ton, because—” he gestured towards his body sheepishly and blushed when Sam smirked. “Back then, getting enough calories was _horrible_. We boiled everything, and the stuff that did have what I needed was barely edible at all.” He grinned and added, “Internet’s great too. Super helpful. Becca showed me how to use it back when I first woke up. Definitely read that a lot, trying to catch up.”

Sam nodded, raising an eyebrow. “Becca’s the roommate, right? Your guy’s grandniece or something, right? Freaked out every gossip rag from here to L.A. when you two moved here, to D.C., together. Big scandal.”

Steve sighed and shook his head. “I remember. Ridiculous. Becca’s one of my best friends. Currently dating one of my other best friends.” He wrinkled his nose and shook his head, because much as he loved Thor and Becca, he _really_ didn’t like to think too much about it. He’d walked in on them one time too many to still be casual about it.

“Yeah,” Sam smirked. “I remember seeing _that _revelation around too.”

Steve winced a little.

_Everyone _remembered that particular Fourth of July. Tony _still_ felt bad about it.

“So,” Sam said, smiling lightly, “You doing anything fun today?”

Steve saw it for the change of subject that it was and grasped at it eagerly—maybe a little _too _eagerly. “Hopefully you,” he blurted, blanching when his brain caught up with his mouth, wincing at Sam’s slightly stunned expression. “I mean—that’s not—I wasn’t trying to—”

He gave up on his spluttered explanation when Sam burst into laughter, hiding his face—cheeks _burning_ with an increasingly embarrassed blush—in his hands. He didn’t look up until Sam reached out and put his hand on Steve’s arm, gently pushing it down so Steve would be forced to look at him.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam grinned, winking when Steve dared to look directly at him again. “I mean, you should definitely buy me a drink first, but it’s good to know I wasn’t imagining that you were flirting.” He looked momentarily confused and then asked, “I wasn’t, right?”

“No,” Steve admitted breathlessly, feeling more than a little overwhelmed by the idea that he’d actually managed to ask someone out—sort of—and that said someone had actually returned his interest.

What the fuck.

Stuff like this didn’t happen to Steve—he was the hopeless single friend.

Willingly.

Sam smiled—a real, bright smile that made Steve’s stomach do another funky flop—and bit his lower lip. “Well then. You gonna ask for my number, Rogers?”

“Right!” Steve blurted, fumbling to get his phone from his pocket without accidentally tossing it across the damned park. Sam took it from him with an indulgent smile, and Steve was pretty sure his face was stuck somewhere between bewilderment and soppy admiration, and he wasn’t sure…

Well, he wasn’t sure what to do now.

“There,” Sam handed his phone back and raised an eyebrow. “You better call me, Rogers. I ain’t one for getting stood up, even by a superhero.”

Steve nodded eagerly. “I will, definitely, I just—” His phone buzzed in his hand, and he frowned when he recognized Nat’s S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued number. Nat only used that number to call him when they were being called in for a mission.

“Duty calls,” he said ruefully, wiggling his phone at Sam. “I’m sorry. Thanks for the run though.” He grinned and winked, “If that’s what you wanna call running.”

“Oh, that’s how it is?” Sam exclaimed indignantly, although there was no real heat to his words.

“That’s how it is.”

“O-okay,” Sam chuckled. “You better call me when you get back.”

Steve nodded dumbly, not turning away until he heard the familiar engine roar of Nat’s favorite Corvette—because _of course _she’d tracked his phone instead of waiting for his reply, _damn those spies_—grinning sheepishly at Sam’s raised eyebrow. “Can’t run everywhere.”

“No, you can’t,” Sam agreed, smirking when Steve awkwardly tried to fit himself into the small seat—he swore that was at least half of the reason Nat always picked him up in this thing.

“Hey fellas,” Nat grinned, baring all her teeth with a predatory gleam in her eye as she looked at Sam.

“No,” Steve said firmly, before she could do or say anything that would make Sam realize Steve was a goddamned disaster and he should run while he still had the chance. He frowned at her, and when that didn’t have much of a visible effect, he pouted.

Her expression softened, and Steve _barely_ managed to keep from grinning.

Worked like a charm. Every damned time.

“I’ll call you,” he told Sam, offering him a quick smile, before he turned back to Nat, putting thoughts of Sam and the conversation and the potential date in his future out of his mind, focusing entirely on the folder Nat had tossed onto his lap and resolutely ignoring her attempts to pick apart what little she’d seen of his interaction with Sam. 

“What do we have?”

_————————_

** _EXCLUSIVE: CAPTAIN AMERICA MOVING IN WITH DEAD BEST FRIEND’S GRAND-NIECE? _ **

_Captain America, also known as Steve Rogers, and Rebecca Barnes—granddaughter to Rogers’ late best friend’s little sister—_are_ moving in together, but they are most definitely not in a relationship, despite an absurd tabloid report. _

_Gossip Cop can exclusively correct the story and report that it’s completely false. _

_According to OK!USA, our favorite supersoldier is moving out of the Avengers Tower to follow Barnes to Washington D.C., where they’re “on the hunt for a love pad”. An alleged insider tells the magazine that Thor and Barnes, who were recently accidentally ‘outed’ by Tony Stark, have split up because of the “deep, intense feelings” between the Captain and the youngest Barnes. _

_“They’re both so attracted to one another,” says a supposed source, who further contends that the other Avengers and the Barnes family “aren’t surprised Cap is following Becca to D.C. and that they’re looking for a home together.” _

_The outlet’s premise is flat-out ridiculous. _

_Just last Sunday, Thor joined Barnes and Rogers for dinner at Rebecca Barnes Sr.’s home. _

_The idea that Rebecca Jr. has dumped him for Captain Rogers is ludicrous. Additionally, the tabloid’s article is based on claims from an anonymous and untraceable “source,” but Gossip Cop reached out to Rogers’ spokesperson, who tells us on the record that it’s untrue. Despite what the magazine’s so-called “insider” claims, a rep qualified to speak on the Captain’s behalf assures us he and Barnes aren’t a couple, and the relocation is funded and requested by S.H.I.E.L.D., where both Captain Rogers and Agent Barnes are employed. _

_[…]gossip media is constantly trying to create new milestones in the relationship between Captain Rogers and the females in his life, despite their relationship being friendly and professional. […] Last week, we busted another bogus report alleging the Black Widow might be pregnant with Rogers’ baby. _

_Earlier this week, Gossip Cop also shot down a phony article claiming that the Avengers were split between Barnes and the Black Widow, picking sides in a vicious fight for Rogers’ affection.[…]_

_This latest article involving the supposed lovers house-hunting together is yet more fiction. _

_—A. Shuster, Gossip Cop, « Captain America moving to D.C. with Rebecca Barnes?», August 2012 _

_————————_

**Indian Ocean **

**11:08 PM (UCT+6.30) **

**Steve**

He listened intently as Rumlow briefed them, eyeing the specs intently. Natasha stood beside him, brow equally furrowed in concentration, while Becca fiddled with her gloves, alternating between looking at Rumlow and the screen. Normally, Steve would try to scold her into paying attention, but by the time he and Nat had gotten to H.Q., Becca had already been debriefed and had several plausible plans ready for Steve to review once he’d been briefed on the jet.

He’d learned to value her insights on cases like these, because there was a reason she had made it to the rank of Captain in the Army at twenty-two, and he knew how hard it was for her to stand still.

“Any demands?” he inquired when Rumlow finished identifying the target and outlining the situation.

There hadn’t been when they’d left D.C., but that had been mere minutes after contact with the Lemurian Star had been lost—two and a half hours ago.

“Billion and a half,” Rumlow nodded curtly, facing Steve directly, preparing for the questions he likely knew were coming. They’d worked together quite a few times over the past few years, and Rumlow had learned to anticipate what info Steve needed to effectively plan a successful mission in minutes.

“Why so steep?”

Demands were all good and well in hostage situations, but no agency deploying simple satellites would be able to afford quite that much money on such short notice.

Rumlow looked surprised, for a moment, before admitting, “Because it’s S.H.I.E.L.D.’s.”

Steve barely managed to refrain from rolling his eyes, quietly cursing Nick Fury in the back of his mind, and glanced towards Nat. “So it’s not off-course.” That’d been one of Becca’s theories; an attempt to explain what the ship would be doing this far out of international waters; why they’d been vulnerable to pirates in the first place.

“It’s trespassing,” Becca agreed, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning.

Rumlow looked like he wanted to say something—probably something derogatory that would make Steve want to punch him regardless of his professional competence—but Nat stepped in before he could. “I’m sure they have a good reason,” she offered, smiling winningly at Steve.

Steve _did_ roll his eyes this time. “I’m getting real’ tired of being Fury’s janitor.”

He could’ve been having lunch, at home, right now. He could’ve asked Sam out for breakfast, could’ve tried to figure out if he could try dating without wanting to throw up at the mere thought of it.

Why did Fury always want _him_ to clean up his own damned messes?

He turned back to Rumlow and gestured to go on. “How many pirates?”

“Twenty-five,” Rumlow replied immediately, pulling up several profiles of well-known international fugitives. “Top mercs, led by this guy.” He pulled up and enlarged a picture of a built man with a buzz cut and a dead-eyed expression Steve had seen in too many men in the service before.

“Georges Batroc,” Rumlow continued, “Ex-DGSE, Action Division. He’s at the top of Interpol’s Red Notice. Before the French demobilized him, he had thirty-six kill missions.” He looked Steve dead in the eye and frowned. “He’s got a rep for maximum casualties. It’s why they wanted to get rid of him in the first place.”

Steve nodded curtly. He wasn’t sure what a man like that would want with a S.H.I.E.L.D. vessel, but he was sure it couldn’t be anything good. “Hostages?” he demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

Rumlow faltered, and Steve frowned, because that _couldn’t_ be a surprise question—they’d been sent specifically to _rescue_ said hostages. “Uh...” Rumlow stuttered. “Mostly techs. One officer.” He nodded towards Steve. “Jasper Sitwell. They’re in the galley.”

Steve knew of Sitwell.

He wasn’t terribly high up the chain of command, and certainly didn’t have security clearance as high as Steve and Natasha, but he wasn’t just another grunt worker either. From what Steve knew, he was one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s top mission handlers.

He dealt with junior S.H.I.E.L.D. agents that went on lesser undercover missions—had dealt with Becca’s undercover mission too, until Nat had unceremoniously usurped him. Steve had _no _clue what he’d be doing on a satellite launch platform.

“What the hell is Sitwell doing on a launch ship?” he mused, more to himself than to either Nat or Becca, before he shook his head and pushed the issue from his mind. Honestly, it didn’t matter what Sitwell was doing on the ship, it just mattered that Steve needed to get him and the techs _off_ of it.

Safely.

“Alright,” he said briskly, glancing to his core team briefly. “I’m gonna sweep the deck and find Batroc. Nat, you kill the engines and wait for instruction. Rumlow, you sweep the aft and find the hostages, direct S.T.R.I.K.E. as you need them. Just get them to the life-pods, and get them out.” He glanced towards Becca and grinned. “Barnes, help Rumlow get into the galley and then cover my six.”

Becca grinned back and cheekily saluted him. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Let’s go.”

He followed Becca and Nat to the hold, taking the communicator Nat held out with a grin. “Secure channel seven,” he said into the communicator when he’d attached it to his wrist.

“Seven secure,” Nat replied, sidling up beside him with a smirk that predicted little good things for him. Usually conversations that started with Nat smirking at him like that ended with dreadfully boring dates with lovely dark-haired women that bore suspicious resemblance to both Bucky and Peggy.

“So,” Nat drawled. “Who was that positively _gorgeous_ specimen you were talking to when I picked you up?” She raised an eyebrow at him and smirked. “Were you _flirting_, Steve?”

Becca popped up from behind one of the S.T.R.I.K.E. agents, her expression bordering on gleeful, and Steve barely repressed the urge to groan. He’d hoped to keep Sam to himself a little longer, at least until he had decided how he felt about the whole thing.

He should’ve known he would never be able to keep it under wraps with these two in his life.

That not mean that he wasn’t going to try, though.

“I’m not talking about this now,” he said firmly, shooting a glare at Becca when she had the gall to _pout_ at him. Thankfully, the pilot’s voice interrupted the two women before they could pester him more, warning him of the drop zone coming up.

He ran his hand through his hair one more time before he pulled the helmet on, moving towards the loading bay as he did.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Becca piped on from behind him, snatching him by one of the straps on his suit and pulling him back with surprising ease—to everyone but Steve, who’d hoped she would let him get away with it this time. “Put on a fucking parachute, Rogers,” she bit out, shoving aforementioned parachute in his hands.

“Come on, Becs,” he wheedled. “I need to get in _stealthily_. The ‘chute ain’t covert. It’ll slow me down.”

Becca didn’t seem particularly impressed by his reasoning. “I’m not letting you jump out of a goddamn plane without a parachute, you moron.”

“You let Thor do it all the time,” Steve pointed out, smiling winningly, sneakily pushing the parachute into a hapless S.T.R.I.K.E. agent’s hands, stepping in front of the man to make sure Becca wouldn’t be able to see what he was doing.

Becca threw her hands up in exasperation and shoved at his shoulder, even as Steve moved back to the loading bay. “Thor can _fly_, Steve, he doesn’t _need_ a parachute.”

Steve grinned at her over his shoulder, and winked at her. “Neither do I.”

He jumped.

_————————_

**Lemurian Star, Indian Ocean **

**11:14 PM (UCT+6.30) **

**Steve**

“Hostages en route to extraction,” Rumlow’s voice alerted Steve. “Barnes is on her way to you. Romanoff missed the rendezvous point, Cap. Hostiles are still in play.”

He didn’t have eyes on Batroc anymore, and the entire ship had fallen suspiciously silent following his attempt to smash Batroc’s skull in with his shield. Of course, they _did_ have standing orders to subdue the man, not kill him, but Steve had seen an opportunity and he’d taken it.

He’d rather be scolded for taking out a terrorist than risk the man getting out again.

Steve cursed under his breath before he replied, voice hushed, “Affirmative. Natasha, Batroc’s on the move. Circle back to Rumlow and protect the hostages.” There was no reply, and worry coiled in the pit of his stomach. He stopped, distracted, and lifted his arm to speak directly into the comm unit.

“Natasha?”

He didn’t see the attack coming.

He didn’t have time to do anything other than parry the volley of blows that came at him, faster and harder than anyone he’d fought in recent history. He was bowled over by the sheer viciousness of the attack, and before he knew it, his attacker had knocked him on his back, giving him _no_ time to recover.

All Steve could see when he straightened up was the boot flying right at him, and he barely managed to move just enough so said boot landed on the floor instead of on parts of Steve’s anatomy he’d really rather keep intact—especially with the possibility of a date in the near future still in the back of his mind.

Batroc—because of course it was Batroc, Steve hadn’t expected anyone else—froze for a heartbeat, as did Steve. The stillness of the moment was over as soon as it had begun, and Steve didn’t spare much thought to technique when Batroc attacked again in a violent flurry of movement, punching and kicking so fast Steve couldn’t do anything but block, at first.

It only took a few moments before he spotted a pattern in Batroc’s attacks though, and then, instead of concerning, the fight became _fun_.

Batroc was a good fighter, and while he was certainly no match for Steve, he was far more of a challenge than anyone but Thor had been able to provide since he’d gotten the serum. Even Schmidt, for all his bluster of being the perfect man, had had shockingly little fighting technique and had mostly relied on brute strength alone.

Batroc, on the other hand… Batroc fought like it was an art, and Steve _loved_ it.

Steve did _not_, however, have time to relish in the fight. Batroc was getting cocky, likely spurred on by Steve’s insistence of blocking and not punching—because he _did_ have orders to bring the man in alive, and if Steve would punch him with full strength, he’d probably punch right through his skull.

It was too easy, really, to shove the man back with the shield, tossing him several feet.

It didn’t slow Batroc down though, and Steve was grudgingly impressed. The man had to be highly trained to be able to shake off a hit like that, and even when he attacked again, and Steve punched back, with his fists and the shield, Batroc got back up.

Steve was a little impressed.

“Je croyais tu étais plus qu’un bouclier,” Batroc sneered when he’d gotten back on his feet, and that… the implication _grated_, even though Steve _knew_, he _knew_ Batroc was goading him, he knew Batroc _knew_ he couldn’t beat Steve… But it stung nonetheless.

Before he knew what he was doing, he holstered his shield, keeping his eyes on Batroc as he undid the chin-strap on his helmet. “On va voir,” he said evenly, and he was _itching_ for this fight, _itching_ for a reason to beat this guy into the ground, regardless of how well he fought—

He and Batroc both flinched and spun around when a loud gunshot rang out across the deck, and before either of them could react further, Becca appeared, shooting Batroc twice, without hesitation, with the stun gun they had designed specifically to take hostiles in alive.

The man dropped like a sack of flour, and Steve was left staring between Becca—who looked positively _furious_—and the third man there, laying face-down in a pool of his own blood, a gun lying slightly beyond his outstretched fingertips.

“On va voir?” Becca hissed, stepping over Batroc’s prone body with an expression so _infuriated_ Steve was almost afraid she’d set him on fire with just that look. He’d seen her angry before, but… _shit_, he’d messed up. “On ne vois _rien_! What the _actual fuck_, Rogers?!”

“Okay,” he said slowly, raising his hands in surrender, because Becca was still holding her stun gun, and she was _not_ lowering it. “In my defense…”

“In your _defense_?” Becca shouted, stomping forward, shoving him in the shoulder _hard_. “There was no _in your defense! _You put away your main defensive weapon! You took off your _helmet_ on an active mission _with hostiles still in play!_ Jesus Christ, Steve, you _know_ better!”

Steve opened his mouth, but Becca waved her gun around angrily and he snapped it shut again, because he might be a supersoldier and if she shot him, he’d survive, but it’d still hurt like hell, and he wouldn’t put it past her to shoot him just to teach him a lesson about how close to death his body could take him.

“He had a gun on you,” she hissed. “He was _waiting_ to take the shot, _damn it_! He would’ve blown your fucking brains out, Steve, and it’s not like you have any to spare!”

“Hey!” Steve exclaimed indignantly, glaring at her. “That’s not fair.”

“Try that again when you didn’t put away your _main weapon_ in front of a hostile!” Becca shouted, poking her finger so close to his face, Steve was worried she’d boop him on the nose and make him laugh, because he _knew_ laughing at her now would _definitely_ make her shoot him.

“Okay, look,” Steve tried, backing away a little, because he was no fool, and staying within arm’s reach of an angry Barnes was _never_ a good idea. “My entire body is basically a weapon. I mean—”

“Well, this is awkward,” Natasha interrupted.

Becca and Steve spun around to find her sitting cross-legged on Batroc’s back, securing his wrists with heavy handcuffs that could probably hold even Steve. Steve’s cheeks flamed, because Natasha was smirking in a way that meant she had heard _all_ of the conversation that Steve would have rather kept between him and Becca.

Of course, he’d rather have not had the conversation at all, but he wasn’t that lucky.

“Where were you?” he bit out angrily, desperately grasping at the only thing he could to change the subject, glaring at Nat when she just raised her eyebrow. “Rumlow needed you with the hostages.”

“He’s fine,” she waved a hand dismissively. “I…” she paused and her eyes darted between him and Becca, who was still steely-eyed and angry, but at least not shouting anymore. “Fury gave me a secondary mission,” she admitted, holding up a hand to stave off the angry tirade that was already _itching _to burst from Steve’s lips. “I can’t talk about it here. _Later_, Steven.”

“Fine,” Steve bit out. “_Fine_.” He pointed to Natasha menacingly. “But you’re coming back to our place later to explain.”

Nat raised an eyebrow. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

_————————_


	2. The One Where Steve Has To Apologize

# Chapter Two

**MALALA YOUSAFZAI WINS NOBEL PEACE PRIZE 2014 **

_MALALA YOUSAFZAI, THE PAKISTANI TEENAGER WHO SURVIVED AN ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT BY THE TALIBAN, HAS WON THE NOBEL PEACE PRIZE JOINTLY WITH KAILIASH SATYARTHI OF INDIA. _

_[…]prize was awarded jointly to Malala Yousafzai and Kailash Satyarthi from India, “for their struggle against the suppression of children and young people and for the right of all children to education”. _

_“[…]Nobel Committee regards it as an important point for a Hindu and a Muslim—an Indian and a Pakistani—to join in a common struggle for education and against extremism,” the committee members said in a statement issued after the official announcement. The awarding of the prize to the two campaigners was celebrated widely on social media, with congratulations from several celebrities, including former Nobel Peace Prize nominee Alexander Pierce, who turned down the nomination earlier this year. _

_Pierce, 78, has been Secretary for the World Security Council for a number of years, and turned down the nomination with the now famed words, “Peace is not an achievement that needs to be celebrated, it is a responsibility that is shared by all of us.” _

_[…]Malala, now 17, was living in Pakistan’s Swat Valley when she was shot in the head by militants in October 2012 as punishment for her high profile campaign to encourage girls to go to school. A year later, she was living in Britain, having staged a remarkable recovery thanks to surgeons in Birmingham, and has become an international role model for young people. _

_Pakistan's president, Nawaz Sharif, said last year that she was "the pride of the nation"._

_[…]“We cannot express the level of our happiness in words. I just spoke to Ziauddin [Malala’s father], and her mother. I also spoke to Malala, and they are all very excited and happy about this," he said. "Malala told me that Allah has blessed her with this award and she hopes this peace prize will help her cause [of educating girls], which is what she is focused on."_

_One of Malala’s teachers, Shumaila Khan, said she was very proud of her former pupil. "I have never seen a girl as brave as her. She challenged the Taliban at a time when all men didn’t have the courage to oppose them," she said._

—Harriet Alexander and Jessica Winch, The Telegraph, _“Malala Yousafzai Wins Nobel Peace Prize”_, October 10th 2014

_————————_

**Residence of Steve Rogers and Rebecca Barnes, Washington D.C., U.S.A. **

**7:08 PM **

**Steve **

Steve’s hands were still trembling slightly when he unlocked the front door.

The house was quiet, and despite the relatively early hour, the lights were off. Becca and Thor were either not in, or they’d decided to retire to their room early.

Knowing them, both options were equally likely, Steve mused.

As the mission leader, he had been stuck at the Triskelion and in debrief a good few hours longer than the rest of the team, and between sessions with Maria Hill and Nick Fury, he’d caught a glimpse of an upset in the lobby. He’d recognized Thor’s distinctive figure easily, and he’d spotted him just in time to see Becca—out of her mission gear, hair tied in a ponytail and clad in sweatpants—collapse in his waiting arms.

He’d been a little startled then, to feel something quite like _jealousy_ curling in the pit of his stomach at the sight of them. It wasn’t like he’d never felt envious of them before—but the intensity and the suddenness of it had _scared_ him.

He didn’t like to think he was really _jealous_ of either of them. And he wasn’t. Not really.

He’d spoken to Karen-the-therapist about it, once, and she’d helped him see that he envied what they had. Steve envied the easy intimacy Becca had managed to build with Thor over the course of their unconventional relationship. It didn’t mean that Steve didn’t love them or that he didn’t want them to be happy together—he just missed having someone to come home to after difficult missions, missed having the opportunity to fall into someone’s arms and letting _go_.

He did have Becca and Thor, of course, as his friends, but… it just wasn’t the same thing.

His thoughts drifted to Sam, and he smiled a little despite himself. It was still difficult to think of someone other than Bucky in a potential romantic fashion, but Steve _wanted_… he wanted to be hopeful about it. He _wanted_ to be happy, to have someone to come home to, but it was _so_ incredibly difficult to… imagine.

To imagine anyone but Bucky being the one that caught Steve when he needed to be caught, even after four years—or seventy, depending on one’s point of view.

Steve sighed, rubbing his hand through his hair as he stepped inside.

He’d been able to shower and change in the locker rooms, thankfully, so he wasn’t covered in sweat, blood and dried ocean water anymore, but his heart was still racing and his mind was still spinning.

He made a valiant effort of kicking his shoes in the general direction of the shoe rack, but he was _tired_, and he was still shaken about his argument with Becca and Nat’s secretive secondary mission within Steve’s mission—_again_, he might add—so he honestly couldn’t be bothered with Becca’s insistence on “cleaning our shit, like actual goddamned adults, Steve”.

He spotted Becca’s worn black Converses, tipped over one another half-underneath the shoe rack, next to her S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued boots and Thor’s leather boots—the only kind of Midgardian shoe, beside flip-flops, that he wore voluntarily when he was on Earth for prolonged periods of time.

Definitely still here then.

Steve rubbed his hand over his forehead and sighed.

Becca had been on duty all night before the mission had called them in too, so while Steve was exhausted and still more than a little upset, he imagined Becca had been feeling worse.

Steve winced.

He and Becca didn’t argue often—not beyond Becca calling Steve a dumbass and Steve reciprocating with whatever sassy reply came to mind in the moment—but when they did…

Steve _really_ did need to talk to Becca. 

The argument they’d gotten into after his admittedly _slightly_ ill-advised actions on the _Lemurian_ _Star _had rattled him more than he wanted to admit, and he _knew_ Becca felt similarly, because she _hated_ public displays of affection and showing any kind of emotion that could be construed as weakness while they were at the Triskelion, but she had very readily fallen into Thor’s arms regardless.

He’d been too far away to be sure, but he was fairly certain Thor had been as surprised as Steve had been by the way Becca had responded to seeing him.

Not, of course, that Thor would have _minded_ the way she greeted him.

Thor _loved_ public displays of affection.

Slightly too much.

Steve had been there to see the very first signs of interest between them, and he’d seen them messily work their way from friends with benefits to casually dating to actually voicing their feelings for each other out loud. He was happy for them, _thrilled_ to see them both happy after they’d been so incredibly heartbroken before they’d gotten together…

But he’d seen _too much_ of them.

He had learned, over the course of Becca’s three-year relationship with Thor, to knock on _every_ door in their shared house when Thor was on Earth. From the moment their friendship had progressed into something _more_, Becca and Thor seemed to have an impossibly hard time keeping their hands _off_ each other—and much as Steve was happy for his friends, he’d seen far more of the both of them than he’d ever really wanted to.

He’d also come to suspect that Thor might have a bit of an exhibitionist kink.

He’d somehow managed to look both smug _and_ chastened every time Steve walked in on them, regardless of their state of undress.

Asshole.

Steve’s stomach growled at that precise moment, making its thoughts on Steve’s train of thought quite clear. He chuckled a little at himself and shook his head to clear his thoughts as he made his way to the kitchen, stomach growling furiously all the while.

He spent way too much time thinking about everyone else’s love lives, and probably not nearly enough about his own. That was, admittedly, because he didn’t have one and never really _wanted_ to have one before this morning either.

He was, in all honesty, still not sure if he wanted one.

He hadn’t had much of a chance to think about it.

Meeting Sam had thrown him for a loop, and Steve _still_ couldn’t imagine walking away and never seeing the other man’s smile again. They’d really only talked shallowly before he’d been called away, and Steve _knew_ his poor attempt at flirting probably hadn’t been all that successful, but he’d still gotten Sam’s phone number and the promise of a date, so… He’d done _something_ right.

He’d just... he’d not even _really _considered what it _meant_.

When Sam had looked at him with that adorable, gap-toothed smile and had nodded, something in Steve’s chest had simultaneously _cracked_ and _healed_ and he’d very nearly had a panic attack.

Steve sighed and leaned his head against the fridge door with a quiet _thunk_.

He had no fucking clue what he was doing.

His stomach growled again, plaintively this time, and he hung his head. He should probably scrounge up something simple to eat before his stomach decided to eat _him_.

He settled on tossing some leftover vegetables in a pan, cracking some eggs and adding in a packet of protein powder Tony had assured him would soothe even Steve’s ravenous metabolism, stirring everything together lazily. He could cook up something more substantial when he’d taken the edge off his hunger.

It didn’t take more than a couple of minutes to fry his eggs and toast a couple of slices of bread, and he took his plate into the living room with only a minor twinge of guilt—he’d vacuum if he spilled all over the armchair again.

_He so would_.

He sighed and turned to his food, summarily letting his own thoughts stray back to the man he had sort-of not-so-accidentally asked out that morning.

Steve wasn’t sure what would come out of it.

He’d spent just a few minutes casually chatting with the man, but he’d actually been pretty surprised by how _easy _it had been. He’d never been very good at making friends—with the noted exception of Bucky, Becca, and the Howlies, who had basically seen him and decided they were friends, without much input on his side—and he thought that if he decided he didn’t really want to date Sam after all, he’d still make a pretty awesome friend.

Either way… he thought it would make Bucky proud to see him making things work.

He’d been working hard, since his breakdown three years ago, to learn to love the second chance at life he’d been given, to appreciate it for the miracle it was, because he very nearly _hadn’t_ had this chance, and it would be like completely disregarding the sacrifice Bucky had made to refuse to live now.

Peggy had told him something similar once, Steve knew, shortly after Bucky had fallen, but he hadn’t been willing to listen to it then.

He hadn’t been ready to hear it for a good long while in this century either.

He _had_ heard it, though, when Becca said it, when his therapist said it, when Becky did and mostly when Peggy said it, when she had come to visit him. She had, eventually, come to see him because she was, to paraphrase her, “tired of waiting for him to get off his bloody arse”. Steve had done nothing but cry on her perfectly pressed blouse as she patted his head.

It had taken time, but he’d heard what they were saying, and more importantly, he remembered what Bucky had always told him, and what he had always told Bucky.

_I want you to live_. _I want you happy, because if I have to come back from the dead to kick your sorry ass, I will. Make me proud, will you? _

Steve had been on Death’s threshold more times than he cared to count, and he remembered all he’d wanted in those moments was for Bucky to find a way to become happy. During the war, they’d discussed the same, and Steve _knew_ Bucky wanted him to move on.

He still didn’t know if that was even possible, but he had to try.

Steve Rogers would always have done almost anything Bucky Barnes asked of him—and he could try to do so now too. He was working, he was making friends, building himself a family; and he’d even asked someone out, even if he hadn’t really decided what he was going to do about it.

Karen-the-therapist would be proud of him when he told her.

_If_ he told her.

He was drawn from his thoughts by a door opening on the second floor, and he recognised Thor’s lumbering gait even from a floor away.

He smiled despite himself.

Thor was a good friend, and Steve enjoyed having someone around that he couldn’t accidentally punch so hard they’d die. Thor was more than a match for Steve physically, and that made sparring sessions—whether in the gym at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, or in the Tower when they visited New York—infinitely more interesting.

Thor appeared in the doorway seconds later, lips curled up into a beaming smile as he took in the scene before him. “Ah, Steve, you have returned to us!” He bounded inside and clasped Steve’s shoulder jovially before he snatched a piece of broccoli off of Steve’s plate and plopped down on the couch, angling himself towards Steve.

“Hey,” Steve smiled, swiping at Thor’s head playfully. “Get your own food.”

“It tastes much better from your plate, my friend,” Thor chuckled and stuck out his tongue at Steve, looking for all the world like a twenty-something college student rather than a thousand-year-old God.

Steve just rolled his eyes and finished his omelette. “Becca asleep?” He asked when he’d finished, setting his plate on the table, aiming to sound casual—although even he could hear that he was anything _but_ casual.

Thor, kind and good friend that he was, did not laugh at his shoddy attempt to start a conversation and shook his head. “She insisted on a bath first.”

Steve tried not to wince. Becca only took baths when she needed the time to calm herself down.

Thor, it appeared, knew that as well.

“She is not angry,” he informed Steve kindly. “Not truly. You merely… _frightened _her. You must be more careful, Steven. Strong as you are, you are not invulnerable.”

Steve _did_ wince at that, because he _knew_ that, and he _hated_ that he had, but he did not know how to make it better. He didn’t regret jumping from the plane without a parachute because… well, honestly, there were very few things that gave him a thrill anymore, that were actually _dangerous_, and…

Steve _might_ be a bit of an adrenaline junkie.

Just a little.

Taking off his helmet in front of Batroc though… that was a genuine mistake.

Thor seemed to sense his conflict and patted a large hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Worry not, Steve. She will come around, and you will have your opportunity to apologize. Loki and I suffered many an argument for similar reasons—time apart solves all issues. We were always fine after a century or so. Two, if Loki was feeling particularly irate.”

Steve snorted a little at that. “Well, Becca and I don’t have a few centuries. Also, it’s a little different than you and Loki. I’m not trying to bide my time to get into her pants, pal.”

Thor smirked. “Good. I would hate to have to smite you.”

“Why are we smiting Steve?”

Steve spun around, finding Becca propped up against the doorway, wet hair coiled into a neat braid, dressed in one of his old shirts and a pair of sleep shorts. She raised an eyebrow at him, unsmiling and very clearly still upset.

“Becca,” he breathed, because _shit_, they’d been living together for four years, and she was his best friend on this side of the ice—she was like the little sister he’d always wanted. Before he realised what having a little sister like her was like, of course.

She was annoying and pissed him off to no end, but _Lord_, he loved her.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted before anyone else said anything, turning his entire body towards Becca. “I’m sorry I scared you. And that I put away my shield—”

“And your helmet,” Becca interrupted icily, though her expression slowly eased into something less pissed off.

“—and my helmet,” Steve conceded. “I wasn’t thinking. It was stupid. You were right. I’m sorry.”

Becca’s eyes were suspiciously shiny when she spat, “No, you _clearly_ weren’t. They could’ve _killed_ you. He had a gun on you.”

Steve sighed. “I know. I’m sorry, Becs.” He pushed himself up, off the couch, moving until he stood directly in front of her. “Please. Forgiven?”

He pouted prettily, because he _knew_ Becca couldn’t keep a straight face when he did, and grinned triumphantly when Becca snorted at him. “Fine,” she snapped, poking at his shoulder. “But if I catch you jumping out of a plane without a parachute _one more goddamned time, _Rogers, I swear to God—”

“I won’t,” he chuckled, holding his hands up in submission.

“Ah, but that is simple. Don’t let her catch you,” Thor advised from his spot on the couch, grinning unrepentantly when Becca glared at him.

“What?” Thor said innocently. “You let me do it.”

“Steve can’t _fly,_ you dumbass,” Becca argued, pushing past Steve to swat at her boyfriend’s head before she plopped down beside him.

“Ah,” Thor shrugged. “We all have our failings. I shall teach him.”

Steve snorted and Becca swatted at Thor’s head again, scowling at him playfully. “Boy, you _really_ wanna sleep on the couch, don’t you?”

His easy grin became a groan easily enough when Thor merely smirked at that, waggling his eyebrows at Becca as he replied, “Only if you’ll join me here, _Krúttið mitt.” _Such sappy declaration was met with Becca groaning in disgust before she gave in and kissed Thor anyway.

Steve rolled his eyes and dropped down in the armchair, throwing a pillow at the couple. “I’m burning that couch if you two defile it again.” He’d caught them doing… _stuff_ he’d rather not think about them doing on that damned thing far too often to still be chill about it. He’d declared the armchair off limits on the pain of death, and never sat on the couch when he could help it. He did secretly kind of revel in it when others—less wise in the ways of living with Thor and Becca—did though. “Get a fucking room.”

“I can’t,” Thor told him cheerfully, detaching himself from Becca long enough to grin at Steve. “I’ve been banished to the couch.”

Becca laughed delightedly and Steve groaned.

He needed new friends.

_————————_

**Residence of Steve Rogers and Rebecca Barnes, Washington D.C., U.S.A. **

**9:46 PM **

**Steve **

Natasha didn’t show up until well after dinner, appearing suddenly in their living room, still dressed in her mission gear and looking hilariously out of place, considering they’d all long since changed into sweatpants, comfy shirts and—in Becca’s case—a fleece Captain America onesie Tony had gifted each of the Avengers with because he thought he was _hilarious_.

Becca was half-dozing by the time Nat appeared, lying on her stomach on the couch, head on a pillow on Thor’s lap, her nose nearly pressed against his stomach, and Steve was feeling decidedly sleepy himself, blinking blearily at whatever romantic comedy Thor had turned on after he’d won the battle for the remote control.

He’d been sketching, earlier, but he was drowsy enough that he’d really just been filling in the tight line of Bucky’s jaw and the ragged edge of his torn jacket over and over again.

He blinked at Nat in surprise, before sighing a little. He’d long since given up trying to teach her to respect any sort of boundaries—he knew she did shit like this to provoke him, to see how far she could push him before he pushed back, before he’d get angry and yell—and mostly stuck to insisting she knocked if she came into one of their bedrooms.

She mostly respected that rule too.

And he _had_ told her, sort of, to come over to tell him about what had been going on.

He really did kind of bring it on himself this time.

“Hey Nat,” he said lazily, smiling when Thor and Becca stirred to look at their visitor too. “Have a seat,” he added, gesturing to the other armchair as Thor reached for the remote, turning down the volume on his movie with great reluctance.

She eyed them all with a predatory kind of assessment before she smiled at Steve and tossed a brown manila folder on the coffee table. “Read that,” she ordered as she took a seat in the floral armchair. “It’s every intel-gathering mission within a larger mission that Fury’s assigned me on in the last six months,” she added when Steve reached for the folder and Becca sat up, sleepy and bleary-eyed but clearly paying attention.

“That’s what you were doing today?” Becca questioned when Steve handed her part of the file, skimming through the papers.

Nat nodded silently.

Steve clenched his jaw and looked down at the papers he was holding. The page detailed the info Nat had pulled from a classified server during a raid of an abandoned—or so they’d thought—A.I.M. base, referencing to… to key pieces of evidence going missing, easy missions going _horribly_ awry in a myriad of increasingly unlikely ways, agents—good, dependable agents—going missing or dying in the line of duty—

Nat was right.

There _was_ a pattern.

“Nat,” Becca said, and Steve’s head snapped up, because Becca sounded _wrecked_. “This is Sharon’s mission. The last—where—_why_ do you have Sharon’s mission in here?”

Natasha turned her gaze towards Becca, and there was something in her expression that set Steve’s nerves on edge. “Because there’s something _very_ fishy going on.” Steve took the file from Becca, eyes scanning over the information quickly, stomach turning at the picture the report was painting.

“They’re trying to pin _murder_ on her,” he spit, looking up at Nat desperately. “This is insane.”

Natasha nodded sharply. “I know that. _Fury_ knows that. Sharon was recruited in _high school_. S.H.I.E.L.D. put her through college. We know she’s loyal. That’s why the file is in there; he’s keeping an eye on things, I think. He’s trying to… see patterns, find out if there’s something more going on. There’s been rumors of a mole inside S.H.I.E.L.D. before, but in the light of all of that,” she waved towards the files, “they’re thinking it might be Sharon.”

“What will happen to the young lady Carter while they try to see these patterns?” Thor questioned, rubbing his hand over Becca’s back when she hunched over, looking slightly green around the gills.

“Nothing bad,” Nat insisted. “Fury wouldn’t let them get rid of her or imprison her, unless they can prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was her. They’re probably going to put her on desk duty, assign her to the research department, something like that.”

“Do we trust him?”

Steve loathed to be the one to ask, because he didn’t _want _to distrust Fury, but… the man _was_ the head of S.H.I.E.L.D. and it was very hard to imagine anything going on in the agency without Fury knowing about it.

“_Yes_,” Nat said vehemently, appearing almost insulted that he’d dared to question it at all.

“Do we trust him to be able to direct the investigation the right way?” Thor questioned. “The lady Carter is a friend to us all, none of us would see her wrongfully imprisoned.”

“I wanna call in the others,” Becca interjected hoarsely, tearing her eyes from the mess of papers on their coffee table. “I want to call in Tony. And Clint. I trust Fury, but Sharon’s family. I’m not taking any risks. We already know S.H.I.E.L.D.’s hidden things from us before. We can’t take a chance with this kind of investigation. If there’s a mole, they’ll do their level best to pin it all on Sharon.”

Natasha nodded. “I agree. I already contacted Stark and sent him everything I have.”

Steve nodded. “Who else knows about this so far?”

“Just us,” Nat replied tightly. “Fury knows something is off, I’m sure, that’s why he’s been sending me on side missions for months. I haven’t told him what I found yet.”

“Are you going to?”

Becca’s voice was quiet, but Steve could hear the steely resolve in in her tone.

He looked from his roommate to Natasha, who had perched on the second armchair carefully, and considered the advantages and the disadvantages of bringing Fury into the fold.

On the one hand, having the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. on their side would definitely ensure that they had a semi-reliable source of information _and_ someone who could get into places they couldn’t without arousing too much suspicion.

On the other… they had no idea how far up the mole was, and for all they knew right now, Fury _was_ the mole. Steve honestly did not think that the man was, but stranger things had happened. After he’d seen the Red Skull peel off his own face, and crashed a plane into the Arctic and woke up seventy years later, he’d learned to stop taking things at face value.

Natasha didn’t reply for a long while, but eventually, she nodded. “I’ll tell him that I suspect something. I don’t need to tell him everything else until _we _know what we have.”

“So we run it like an Avengers Black Op,” Steve mused. “Strictly need-to-know. Only the team and essential personnel.” The idea of the Black ops was that no one but the Avengers themselves and a few trusted others would be in charge of gathering intel, analyzing the data and planning their next steps. Tony had insisted on developing the concept shortly after the mess in Greenwich, rightfully pointing out that they _didn’t _always have the luxury of letting Natasha run thorough and intense background checks on everyone involved. One day, they might have to handle information so delicate and dangerous they_ couldn’t_ afford to trust just anyone.

It was a sound idea, and Steve had been all for its development. 

They had not yet needed to put the concept to use, but if Natasha was right, and there _was _a mole in S.H.I.E.L.D., Steve didn’t want to risk trusting anyone but his teammates—and possibly Jane, Darcy, Maria and Erik Selvig, if they needed their expertise.

“Sounds like a fine idea,” Thor nodded approvingly, although he returned his attention to Becca swiftly when she exhaled with a shudder, fingers clenched around Sharon’s file.

“We have to tell Sharon,” Becca said, not looking up from the file. “This is her life, her career—we can’t do this without letting her know we’re on her side.” She looked up at Steve pleadingly, and Steve had to actively stop himself from immediately digging out his phone to call Sharon. Becca was right, and he hated it, because they _couldn’t_ risk telling Sharon that the Avengers were on the case.

“We can’t,” Natasha said, and Steve felt a momentary wave of gratitude, because he _really_ hadn’t wanted to be the person to tell Becca she couldn’t comfort her cousin when she needed it.

Becca opened her mouth to protest, but Nat cut her off before she could say anything. “Think, Barnes. Whoever this is, they’re very good at what they do. They have to have access to Sharon, there’s no other way for them to pull this off. Whoever they are, I’ll bet you anything Sharon knows them.”

Becca frowned at Nat, but grudgingly nodded. “Still. She needs to know that _we_—“” she gestured between herself, Steve and Thor, “—are on her side at least. I understand we can’t tell her we’re investigating things, but she needs to know her family’s got her back, at the very least.”

Natasha nodded begrudgingly. “Just keep her in the dark on the Avengers Op. I know we trust her, but we can’t afford for this to get back to whoever is trying to cover this up.”

Steve looked at the files and swallowed thickly. Natasha _was_ right, however much he would like to pretend that she was not. There was something much bigger than just Sharon’s botched mission going on, and if Nat’s hunch proved right…

“This isn’t just about Sharon,” he said, gesturing to the rest of the files. “There’s something _much _bigger going on. We gotta—we gotta do this the right way, Becs.”

Becca nodded, leaning back against Thor with a deep sigh. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Do we have eyes on Sharon?” Steve asked, taking the file on her that Becca had discarded on their coffee table, flipping through the information laid out in it carefully.

Nat shook her head. “I haven’t set anything up yet.”

“Tony’ll probably have something untraceable and undetectable for us,” Becca pointed out calmly, shifting to sit crosslegged on the sofa. “We gotta use the fact that we have access to tech that no one else does.” She spread out a couple of files across her own lap and Thor’s as she spoke, and Steve was glad to see she wasn’t caught up on Sharon’s misfortune in all this, because he could really use Becca’s insights on this—he’d come to rely on her keen eye a lot over the past few years, and he knew that she saw things that he didn’t.

Natasha, too, had proved herself invaluable—it’s why they made such a good team.

“You called Tony, right?” Steve checked, looking up from his own file to see Natasha nod.

He looked down at the files again, glanced at the clock, and sighed. “Okay. We’re not going to be able to do anything tonight anyway. Becca, text Tony to call in the others too, we’ll convene at the Tower tomorrow—we’re due forty-eight hours off rotation anyway; we might as well use them. We can discuss the best and most efficient ways to set up surveillance on Sharon then. Thor, you’re not due in Asgard for a few more weeks, right?”

“Correct,” Thor boomed. “I’ll gladly be of assistance to clear young Lady Carter’s name.”

Becca smiled tiredly at him, leaning in to peck him on the cheek before she leaned down, resting her cheek on his shoulder.

Natasha nodded stiffly and stood, clearly making to gather the mess of papers on the table and disappear to wherever she liked to hide when she wasn’t here, trying to set Steve up with every eligible single she knew, and Steve sighed. “Nat,” he said, drawing her attention. “Just sleep in the spare room,” he said firmly. “I’ll feel better knowing you’re here and not getting into fights by yourself.”

Natasha smirked dangerously, raising an eyebrow at him. “I’m not you, Rogers.”

“Humor me then,” he insisted. He really_ would_ feel better knowing that his D.C. teammates were all under his roof—with the exception of Sharon, but Steve assumed she had Brock to look out for her, at least, and it wasn’t like he had another guest room to offer up. “You can probably borrow something of Becca’s to sleep in,” he added.

Becca, who looked like she was well on her way to falling back asleep on Thor’s shoulder, waved her hand vaguely, which Steve took to mean she was okay with Natasha raiding her closet.

She should be.

She stole his and Thor’s shirts often enough.

Nat glanced towards Becca for a moment before she turned to Steve again, carefully coiling her body as seductively as she could, jutting her full lower lip out into a pout. “What if I’d rather wear something of yours?” she purred, and Steve _would _be exasperated, but it really wasn’t the first time Nat tried to flirt with him like this, and he knew she was doing it to get a rise out of him anyway.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of my stuff in Becca’s closet too,” he replied evenly, offering her a mild smile.

Nat held the seductive pose for a moment longer before she let it go, nodding lightly. “Alright then,” she said softly. “We’ll do it your way, Rogers.”

Becca heaved herself up from the couch with a big sigh, gesturing towards the stairs impatiently. “Well then, Romanoff. Let’s go.”

Thor merely smiled when Becca looked back at him, holding her hand out, before he tapped her hip lightly. “Go on, _Krúttið mitt. _I will join you shortly, after I have helped Steve clean up.” He gestured grandly towards the mess of papers, and Steve watched as Becca shrugged, trudging towards the stairs with all the air of a woman about to fall asleep on her feet.

Nat eyed them both shrewdly for a moment, but remained silent as she followed Becca up the stairs.

“So,” Thor said when they’d heard the women disappear into Thor and Becca’s room. “What do you truly think of all this?” He gestured to the mess of papers he had gathered, messily attempting to shuffle them into a neat stack so he could shove them back into the folder.

Steve sighed and went to help, purposefully not looking at the words written on the pages. “I think we’re getting into something a lot bigger than we’re prepared for,” he admitted wryly. “I’m probably not gonna have time to go on that date after all.”

Thor smiled sympathetically and clasped his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Worry not, my friend. We shall ensure you get the chance to speak to your Sam, _and _that our mission runs smoothly.”

Steve grinned a little despite his concerns. “If you say so.”

“I do,” Thor nodded decisively. “All will be well. You’ll see.”

———


	3. The One With The Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve does some thinking in here. 
> 
> Sorry for the lateness! Next chapter on Monday!
> 
> Love,  
Annaelle

# Chapter Three

**MEET THE NEWEST MEMBERS OF THE AVENGERS **

_BRAȘOV, ROMANIA — A small police force was pinned down behind a makeshift barricade of smoldering car chassis and fallen slabs of concrete on the world’s newest battlefield. Their gunfire was no match for the relentless onslaught of hostile Doombots, barreling down the barely recognizable city street. _

_The windows of a nearby building exploded in clouds of billowing black smoke as people attempted to flee the carnage raining down all around them. _

_If there was ever a time for the Avengers to swoop in and save the day, it was right then. _

_Sadly, Iron Man, Captain America, and Thor were occupied on the other side of the city, attempting to gain ground on Dr. Victor Doom, who unleashed the robots on this unsuspecting city in an attempt to expand his Latverian territory. _

_[…]all is not lost for the officers, though. Instead of the Avengers we all know and love, a man in dark motorcycle pants and a body-hugging silver shirt sprinted into the middle of the action so fast that the eye could barely follow, carrying a woman in a tattered black dress and a red leather jacket in his arms. _

_[…]witnesses report they did not appear at all like superheroes, looking more like teenaged party kids who accidentally stumbled from an all-day rave into chaos instead. [They] ignored warnings and dove into the thick of it, dispatching the Doombots within minutes. _

_[…]though it is unclear what, exactly, transpired, multiple reports suggest that the girl has some kind of telekinetic powers that enabled her to dispatch the Doombots with ease. [It] only took forty-eight hours for the Avengers to hold an official press conference, announcing the addition of Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver—who go by Wanda and Pietro Maximoff in their daily lives—to their ranks, pending a three-month probationary and training period. _

_Wanda and Pietro Maximoff are Sokovian-Romanian-born twins, who lost their parents at the age of ten in the 2006 bombings of Sokovia’s capital. No further details were released on their personal lives, but social media has already heralded their coming as a welcome diversification of the Avenger ranks, which consisted mostly of American ‘superheroes’ thus far, with the notable exception of the Black Widow and Thor. _

_[…]speak for everyone when we say that we’re eager to see how these new Avengers will adjust to their new roles in the world’s most exclusive crime-fighting unit. _

—[Adam B. Vary](https://www.buzzfeednews.com/author/adambvary), “_Meet the New Avengers”, _Buzzfeed News, 2013

_————————_

**Residence of Steve Rogers and Rebecca Barnes, Washington D.C., U.S.A. **

**August 14th, 2015 **

**Steve **

“I’ve been informed that these inanimate objects will never yield, Steven.”

Steve looked up from where he had been engaged in a fierce staring contest with his infuriatingly silent phone on the kitchen island, finding Thor leaning against the back of the sofa. He had not even heard him come into the room at all, and he briefly cursed at himself for letting himself get so distracted by his phone, hanging his head a little before he smiled up at Thor ruefully.

“You’ve been preoccupied these last few days,” Thor said. “I know it is not the operation that bothers you, but I was under the impression your acquaintance with your Sam was progressing well.”

Steve sighed and nodded, finally taking his eyes off his phone.

Thor was right, of course.

With Tony’s aid, they’d been able to set up near-permanent surveillance on Sharon easily, and the rest of the team had been remarkably easy to convince to take on a mission with undefined purpose or end date. Bruce and Rhodey had volunteered to dig through the massive amounts of data Nat had already managed to collect, while Tony gleefully offered to hack into every S.H.I.E.L.D. database he could get his virtual hands on.

Steve would be concerned, but… well, sometimes it was better to let Tony ride whatever inevitably brilliant brainwave took him.

There wasn’t much more that they could do now, not until they had more intel to go off of, not until they had managed to get a clearer idea of what they were dealing with. Steve knew that, and Steve didn’t even _mind_ that, but he had always hated sitting still.

Even texting Sam, enjoyable and pacifying as that had been, hadn’t been enough to get his mind off of it, because… because Steve still didn’t really know where he wanted his acquaintanceship with Sam to go. He knew, of course, that the tone of their texts had been mostly flirty, because he wasn’t _totally_ oblivious, regardless of how Becca liked to tease him, but—

Neither of them had suggested meeting up again, and Steve was a little afraid to do so.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Sam again. It wasn’t even that he didn’t have the time to meet up with Sam again. Steve wasn’t even really sure what it was himself, only that it was starting to get to him, and apparently, it showed.

“It _is_ going well,” he finally replied, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the kitchen island.

Thor nodded slowly and crossed his arms over his chest. “And this… concerns you?”

“No,” Steve denied immediately. Thor raised an eyebrow and Steve winced, hanging his head again before he added, “I don’t think so. It’s…”

He sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know what it is.”

Thor hummed sympathetically and pushed away from the couch, pulling out one of the barstools to sit at the island across from Steve. “When Rebecca asked me if I could ever let myself love her,” Thor began slowly, looking down at his hands, “I nearly left. I did not think that I could, or _should,_ break my vow to Loki, even in death.”

Steve swallowed thickly and nodded.

He knew this.

Thor hadn’t really spoken about it to him at the time, nor had Becca, mostly out of respect for Steve’s close relationship to them both—neither of them had wanted to put Steve in the middle of things if Thor _had_ chosen to leave—but Becca had confided in him about her side of it afterwards.

He never really got the chance to talk to Thor about it.

“Why did you?” he asked, although he was mildly terrified to hear the answer.

Thor looked down again and shrugged. “Love is not a conscious decision, although I have pretended it was for many years. I loved Loki for centuries, and I will for centuries to come, but that does not mean that I cannot love Rebecca as well. The two do not negate one another.”

Steve was struck silent by the intensity of Thor’s gaze when the god looked up again.

“It is,” Thor continued thoughtfully, “perhaps not _easier_, but certainly more comfortable, to hold onto these kinds of promises than it is to acknowledge that those we made them to are no longer with us.”

Steve swallowed thickly, glancing down at his phone again.

He’d never really… he’d never really allowed himself to think of it like that, even though he was well aware that Bucky would have encouraged him to move on. Fuck, that damned jerk had been trying to encourage Steve to move onto Peggy even when he _hadn’t_ been dead.

Steve smiled weakly. “I don’t know if I can think of it like that,” he admitted in a small voice.

Thor returned the smile and reached out to pat Steve’s hand. “Nor am I telling you to. None but you can make this choice, Steve, and it is a difficult one to make. But you must know that we will stand by your side, regardless of what choice you make.”

“God, you two are _so_ gay,” Becca snorted from the doorway, and Steve jumped, because his situational awareness seemed to have taken the day off—he hadn’t heard her coming either.

Jesus.

“You’re gay,” he said without thinking, although he had to admit it was not the scathing comeback he had intended for it to be. She’d caught him off guard and vulnerable and Steve wasn’t great at expressing his feelings even at the best of times—he hadn’t expected to feel this rattled by Thor’s words, was all.

He tracked her movements as she walked into the room, an eyebrow raised at him. “You lookin’ to swipe my boyfriend, Rogers?” she said playfully, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Thor’s cheek before she rounded the counter and slipped an arm around Steve’s waist in a half-hug. Dazed as he was, he didn’t do much to reciprocate, and she’d moved onto raiding the fridge by the time he’d realized he should probably hug her back.

“Do not fret, _Krúttið mitt._ He seeks his own paramour,” Thor said calmly, although Steve very much wanted to bash his head against the marble island the second the words left Thor’s mouth, because Becca was _never_ going to let this go.

He was right.

Becca abandoned her quest for snacks immediately and perched on the island beside Steve, looking at him expectantly. Eagerly. _Terrifyingly _eagerly. “Tell me _everything_. Is this the guy you were talking to when Nat picked you up?”

Steve groaned, hanging his head again. “Becca,” he whined, “_I _don’t even know what this is. I don’t even know if there is a ‘_this_’. There’s nothing to tell yet.”

He yelped when Becca smacked the back of his head abruptly, jerking away from her before she could slap him again. “Don’t do that,” she said sternly when he pouted at her. “You’re not made of glass, and I ain’t treating you like you are. Spill, Rogers.”

Steve briefly considered the benefits of ignoring Becca and hiding in his room until she’d let it go, but history was not with him. He had once seen her ignore Thor for four whole weeks because he’d thoughtlessly commented that her period might be the reason why she felt crabby and angry about a mission that hadn’t gone exactly according to plan. 

Granted, Thor had been on Asgard for two of those four weeks, but Steve was relatively convinced she’d have ignored him if he’d been on Earth too.

Becca was not generally a vindictive person, and definitely not one to hold a grudge, but Thor had managed to hit a sore spot, and it’d taken her a while—and _a lot _of groveling from Thor (and his insistence he had meant for it to be a compliment)—for her to let that thoughtless comment go.

Steve didn’t fancy trying to out-stubborn her.

He pulled his phone back towards him, tapping the screen to show Becca the conversation thread. “I met him on my run,” he admitted. “He gave me his number, we’ve been texting a little. That’s it.”

“Okay,” Becca drawled, scrolling through the texts too fast to actually be able to read them—a small gesture to respect his privacy, and one that he appreciated immensely. “And you haven’t asked him out in person yet, _because_…?”

“Because,” Steve said, falling silent right after, because… well, because he didn’t _know_ why he hadn’t asked Sam out in person yet. “I don’t know him that well,” he finished lamely.

“That is generally why people go on dates, Steve,” Becca replied with a smirk, grinning up at Thor when he moved from his barstool to collect drinks for all of them. “To get to know each other.” She accepted the bottle Thor handed her with a smile, and Steve turned away to look at his phone when it looked like they would end up making out right in front of him again.

He jumped a little when Thor smacked a cold water bottle against his shoulder, smirking devilishly.

“Don’t worry,” he told Steve. “We’ll refrain from scarring you for life.”

“Again,” Becca added cheerfully, because she was clearly _the worst_.

She pecked Thor on the cheek as he left the room, and Steve grumbled lightly, twisting the bottle open so he’d have something to do with his hands, looking down at the thread of text messages he’d exchanged with Sam so far.

“Hey.” He looked up to find Becca right beside him again, smiling sweetly. “Let me give you back a piece of advice you gave me, okay?” He nodded dumbly, and Becca patted his arm lightly. “I don’t know if this guy could make you happy.” She nodded towards the still unlocked phone. “But isn’t it worth considering, at least?”

He shrugged helplessly, and Becca sighed, slinging an arm around his shoulder and pressing a kiss to his cheek before she left the room too, leaving him alone with his thoughts again.

He still didn’t know if he _wanted_ anything to happen with Sam, because flirting—in person _and_ over text—was something entirely different than actually going out on an actual date, and much as Steve liked to pride himself on doing _so_ much better, he wasn’t sure he was doing _that_ good.

That did not mean, however, that he was willing to let go of the very possibility of what Sam could be.

He swallowed thickly and picked up his phone, fingers trembling just a little as he navigated to the phone number he needed. His hand was still shaking a little when he put the phone to his ear, listening to the dial tone with bated breath.

“Hey, Sam,” he greeted as soon as the line connected. “It’s Steve. You got plans tomorrow night?” He smiled breathlessly at Sam’s reply and said, “Yeah. Exactly like a date.”

_————————_

**Quetzal Chocolate Bar, Washington D.C., U.S.A. **

**August 15th, 2015**

**Steve **

He hadn’t been sure what to expect when Thor had heartily recommended the café to him.

Thor’s tastes had been known to be a little… _eclectic _in the past, but Becca had reassured him that this place was _actually_ really cute, and the perfect low-key, low-pressure kind of spot for a first date.

Steve had a little more faith in Becca’s tastes, and therefore didn’t question it.

He’d prepared for the date the same way he’d prepared for a mission—meticulously looking through Sam’s Facebook profile, which might have been a little creepy, but it was Steve’s first real date in this century and he wanted things to go _well_, damn it, and googling acceptable topics of conversation for first dates, and even letting Nat and Becca conspire to put together an outfit for him—and it’d helped, to think of it in such a familiar, clearly defined way.

He hadn’t freaked out.

He hadn’t had a panic attack.

He hadn’t changed his mind overnight.

He _was_ nervous though, when he walked the short distance to the café, in a way he never really had been before, because all the dates he’d gone on then had been with Bucky, and he’d known that Bucky was a sure thing even then.

His moments with Peggy had never really been dates, and she’d made him nervous in an entirely different way. Looking back, he was pretty sure he was only really infatuated with the idea of what Peggy could be, with the idea of having a love that he wouldn’t have to hide, with a life that could be everything he knew his _mam_ had always hoped he’d get.

He’d loved her, sure enough, but he’d loved only what he’d known.

He didn’t think he could’ve lived with her doing some of the things she had during her long life, couldn’t have combined his desire to be normal with _everything_ he was and _everything_ she was, because as much as they might’ve been well-suited, Steve also knew that they were far too similar.

They’d driven Bucky _mad_ with worry the few times they’d run missions together, for example.

Steve smiled despite himself, pushing his hands into his pockets as he walked, already spotting the red awning at the entrance. He was a little early, but Sam was already waiting for him by the door, and Steve swallowed thickly. The other man might not be superhuman like most of Steve’s close friends and acquaintances tended to be lately, but he looked _good_. 

He looked that good because he was waiting for _Steve_.

The only person who’d made that much of an effort to look good for Steve before was Bucky.

Peggy had _always_ looked amazing, but Steve hadn’t been under any illusions that she made the effort for him—she dressed to impress only for herself, and Steve had just been a very lucky schmuck that had happened to catch her eye.

Even when he hadn’t really been interested, when he had been hung up on Bucky, so in love with the other man that he hadn’t really been able to see anyone else clearly, he’d admired her.

Steve blinked, and realized he was dithering at the same moment Sam turned and caught sight of him.

The other man turned to him with a smile that fell just a little when Steve didn’t move immediately. He was probably wondering why Steve wasn’t moving.

_Steve _was wondering why he wasn’t moving.

_“Move, punk_,” his internal voice—that sounded suspiciously like Bucky—prodded, “_He’s waiting.”_

Steve’s legs, thankfully, moved before he needed to consciously think about it, carrying him towards Sam and the café Becca had recommended, towards… towards his _date_.

“Hey,” Sam said as soon as Steve was within earshot. “For a second I thought you were gonna stand me up.” The words were said lightly, but Steve heard the uncertain note nonetheless, and forced himself to _smile_, to reassure the man before him that he wouldn’t have—he wasn’t a flake—but the words wouldn’t quite come out right.

“Me too,” he blurted. “I’m sorry,” he said immediately, “it’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just—” He fell silent, struggling to find words for a moment before he gave up and deflated a little. “I don’t know what it is. I promise I do want to be here. With you.”

Sam scrutinized him for a long, tense moment, and Steve barely resisted the urge to _squirm_. “Let’s get a drink,” Sam finally said, nodding towards the entrance. “We can decide what it means later.”

“Sam,” Steve blurted, “It’s a date, I mean I asked you on a date, I meant it. I’m just—I haven’t actually _been_ on a date in…” He sighed and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Seventy years one way and six another. I’m just nervous.”

Sam grinned and chuckled. “Don’t worry man, I don’t bite.” He pulled the door to the café open and winked at Steve. “Not unless you ask me nicely anyway.” He stepped inside without waiting for an answer, leaving Steve gaping after him, trying to reboot his brain after Sam provided _that_ particular visual—he’d never regretted how easily his mind conjured an image of something until _right now_.

“You coming?” Sam said from where he stood, looking over his shoulder at Steve.

“I might,” Steve grumbled under his breath, “if you keep talking like that.” He followed Sam inside nonetheless, momentarily pausing when the strong scent of chocolate hit him like a sack of bricks.

“Oh, that smells _good_,” he groaned quietly, catching up to Sam at the counter.

Sam hummed as he studied the menu mounted on the wall behind the counter. “It _does_. You in the mood for something sweet, Rogers?”

Steve smirked. “Always,” he said, smiling politely at the girl behind the counter before he turned his attention to the seasonal suggestions that hung above the coffee machine. _Caramel Salé_, the sign boasted proudly, next to a drawing of a steaming cup with a happy smiley face. _A hot chocolate milk with caramel and sea salt_. _Don’t forget to choose your own chocolate!_

There were, indeed, four big basins of chocolate set into the countertop, with white, milk, brown and black chocolate—as the little tags in front of them proclaimed—and Steve’s mouth watered a little at the thought that he might be able to try _all_ of them.

Bucky would have _loved_ this place.

Steve had a moderate sweet-tooth, but no one had loved sweets and chocolate the way Bucky had.

The thought made him feel unexpectedly choked up, and he swallowed thickly, looking away from the menu for a moment to pull himself together. Thinking about Bucky hadn’t been this hard in _years_, and Steve wasn’t sure why _everything_ reminded him of his lost love today.

“Sir?”

His head snapped up, and Steve realized he’d been quiet long enough for Sam to have ordered his drink already. “I, uh,” he stammered. “Sorry. I’d like the Caramel Salé. What chocolate does it taste best with?” He looked up at the girl, cheeks flushed a little with embarrassment. “Any recommendations?”

“Oh,” the girl bit her lip as she considered her answer. “Well, if you like your drink sweet, milk chocolate is really good. It kind of tastes like liquid toffee.”

Steve smiled shakily. “I’ll try that then. And two of those brownies.”

The girl nodded and tapped her register. “Do you want chocolate sauce with those?”

Steve’s eyes widened. “I can have chocolate sauce with them?”

He heard Sam chuckle a little beside him, and the girl grinned. “Yeah. Normally it’s just the one cup, but if you want to try several, I can do that too, it’ll just cost you a dollar extra per flavor.”

“I want all of them,” he told her eagerly, not even the slightest bit embarrassed. “Just gimme one of everything, I don’t care how much it costs.” The girl grinned and tapped her register, barely raising an eyebrow when he pulled out his black Amex card to pay for everything.

“Go have a seat,” she told them, “I’ll get everything to you in a moment.”

Steve managed to _not_ jump when Sam grabbed his elbow gently, nodding towards the plump leather seats in the back corner of the café. Both couches were oriented so they were facing the entrance and with their backs against the wall, and Steve felt immensely grateful that he wouldn’t need to _explain_.

“You looked a little out of it back there,” Sam said carefully when they’d sat down. “You sure you’re up for this right now?”

Steve sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s just… things get a little intense sometimes. You… You get it, right?”

Sam smiled sympathetically. “Yeah, brother. We all got the same problems. Guilt, regret…” he shrugged and looked down, and Steve felt like a total heel for asking, but he couldn’t—he couldn’t stand _not_ asking, either.

“You lose someone?” he blurted, abruptly shutting his mouth when the girl approached them with a tray with their drinks and Steve’s brownies.

Sam stayed quiet too, only speaking to thank her as she put everything on their table before she left.

“I lost my wingman, Riley. My, uh…” He looked down and swallowed thickly. “He was my boyfriend too. We were flying a night mission, standard PJ rescue op… nothing we hadn’t done a thousand times before, but then… an RPG knocked Riley’s dumb ass out of the sky.” Steve winced, and Sam looked like he might cry, before he said quietly, “It’s like I was up there just to watch. Nothing I could do.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve said. “It’s a… shitty topic to bring up, I’m sorry.”

Sam smiled tightly, humorlessly, and picked up his drink. “Nah man. I’m guessing you lost someone too. ‘s what’s making this hard for you, right?”

Steve swallowed, looking down for a moment, reaching out to stir his drink while he collected his thoughts. “His name was Bucky,” he said after a while. “We, uh… we’d been together so long, I can’t even really pinpoint when it started. I think… I think I’ve loved him my whole life.” He looked up at Sam and smiled weakly. “And after… I didn’t… I’ve never really been with anyone—I’ve never really wanted to _try_, not even Peg, not really, so it’s—”

“Hey,” Sam interrupted, leaning over to put his hand over Steve’s trembling one. “I get it. And if this isn’t… if you’re not ready for anything romantic, which, I gotta admit, it’s kind of sounding like you’re not… I can be your friend instead. You can just be that weird friend that tried to hit on me once.”

Steve barked a laugh, and wiped his eyes on his sleeve, slightly mortified that he hadn’t even managed to make it through the whole date without crying.

“I swear I meant for this to be a normal date,” he said thickly.

Sam outright laughed at that and shook his head. “Man, your healing is about you. You don’t need my or anyone else’s stamp of approval. Don’t worry if it takes a long time, or if it’s ugly sometimes. This is about you, brother, not anyone else.”

“I think I like you,” Steve admitted quietly, feeling a little lighter having put the feeling into words, without having the pressure of the date turning out okay still there.

Sam grinned. “That’s good. Now drink your hot chocolate and eat your brownies.”

Steve grinned despite himself.

“Yes sir.”

_————————_


	4. The One With Game Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! 
> 
> So sorry I'm late again.   
Please enjoy the next chapter and be sure to keep an eye on the dates--there's some time jumps coming up :) 
> 
> Love,   
Annaelle

# Chapter Four

** _POLYAMOROUS RIGHTS ADVOCATES SEE MARRIAGE EQUALITY COMING FOR THEM _ **

_Like many others across the country a few weeks ago, a Washington D.C. couple and their housewarming guests buzzed about the Supreme Court’s ruling that legalized gay marriage in all fifty states. This group, however, was far more interested in Chief Justice John Robert’s _dissent_ than the majority opinion that made same-sex marriage the law of the land. _

_The couple—a husband and a wife—are polyamorous, and just moved in with their girlfriend. […]chief justice wrote that polygamy has deeper roots in history and that the decision to allow gays to marry “would apply with equal force to the claim of a fundamental right to plural marriage.” _

_Other comments of note from Chief Justice John Roberts on plural marriage include: “If not having the opportunity to marry ‘serves to disrespect and subordinate’ gay and lesbian couples, why wouldn’t the same ‘imposition of this disability’ serve to disrespect and subordinate people who find fulfillment in polyamorous relationships?” and “When asked about a plural marital union[…] petitioners asserted that a State ‘doesn’t have such an institution.’ […]that is exactly the point: the States at issue here do not have an institution of same-sex marriage, either.”_

_[…]believe that Roberts’ dissent will prove as useful to the polyamorous movement as dissents written by Justice Antonin Scalia in gay rights cases were to the most recent—and successful—same-sex marriage suit. _

_Polyamorists and similar communities have never found more vindication in a dissent than this, however. It truly is causing quite the stir, amongst supporters and protesters alike._

_[…]movement for equal right to plural marriage gained a lot of traction in the last few years, after Tony Stark’s announcement of his polyamorous relationship with longtime boyfriend Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes and Stark Industries C.E.O. Virginia “Pepper” Potts. Stark, Potts, and Rhodes have already issued multiple statements saying they’d love to marry each other, but that they refuse to marry between themselves unless they can _all_ marry. _

_“Tony and I have been together for most of our adult lives,” Rhodes said when asked during a press conference. “We’ve been with Pepper for a long time too, by now. We know this is it for us. If we _could_, we would already have been married.” […]many people living in polyamorous relationships “are in the closet and being very careful”, with a large number of them feeling it’s more important to protect their employment, housing, and children than to lead the charge for marital rights. _

_[…]polyamorous partners, particular younger ones, are increasingly “out” about their lifestyle, and believe that change will come with greater swiftness than for gay people. Having public figures like Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, James Rhodes and even Captain America himself lending support to their cause is predicted to have a large impact._

_[…]explosion of media interest in polyamorous families hints change will come—so long as polyamorous people continue to step out of the shadows—and she hopes in the meantime states will expand domestic partnership laws. _

_"The same-sex marriage movement has really broadened our perspectives on what family means, what love means," a spokesperson for the National LGBTQIA+ community says. "There's quite a strong possibility in the next 10 or 20 years we'll have a very different idea nationwide of what it means to be in a committed family." _

_—_Steven Nelson_, “Future Polyamorous Marriage Right”, _U.S. News & World Report Online_, _June 2015

_————————_

**Common floor of the Avengers Tower, Manhattan, New York, U.S.A.**

**November 23rd, 2015**

**Tony**

Whatever else occurred, Tony maintained that organizing an Avengers Game Night the day after Becca, Capsicle and Thor returned to the Tower was a _brilliant_ idea. They hadn’t done anything _together_ as a team since the party they’d thrown Steve had Becca when they _abandoned_ them for a new, shiny job in D.C., and now that they were back and they had a few new members, Tony wanted to make sure they had some time together.

They tended to hang out in clusters, and it wasn’t like they didn’t all get along or weren’t all friends, it was just that they tended to stick to their pre-Battle of New York friendship dynamics.

It was, quite possibly, the first time they’d all managed to be in the Tower at the same time in _years_.

He’d convinced Rhodey to stick around for the weekend, citing a few promises that made Tony feel a little hot under the collar just thinking about them, and had J.A.R.V.I.S. sneakily reschedule all of Pepper’s appointments so her weekend was free, and even lured Bruce up from his lab with some kind of weird Himalayan tea the man had mentioned once.

Natasha had texted him three days ago that she and Clint would both be there—even though Tony hadn’t even really decided to do anything yet back then—so he’d resigned himself to having his Tower invaded by formerly brainwashed—semi-Russian, at least one of them—spies.

Steve and Becca had planned on spending their three days off in the Tower anyway, so Tony had relished in not having to convince them to show up.

The wonder twins had not confirmed they’d be leaving their floor, but Tony figured they’d show up at some point. Even Thor would be there, coming in from D.C. with Becca and Steve, and he had happily provided all the Asgardian booze needed to get both Steve and himself delightfully drunk as a damned skunk, and promised he would ensure Becca and Steve wouldn’t skip out tonight’s activities.

Tony had PlansTM for the night.

It wasn’t that they didn’t all know each other reasonably well, but Tony felt like there were probably a few things that they could stand to learn about each other.

Besides… They all needed a break from the Avengers op from _hell_.

Tony hadn’t really been able to find any solid evidence of a cover-up, no matter how many databases he hacked and how many firewalls he bypassed, and he knew Natasha hadn’t found anything more damning either.

It was intensely frustrating.

So. Game night.

It was, even if he did say so himself, a _perfect_ plan.

Steve, Becca and Thor wandered onto the common floor first. Tony hadn’t actually seen all of them together that often, and it was pretty interesting to see the dynamic. Thor and Becca were holding hands, while Becca used her free hand to gesticulate excitedly about whatever she and the Capsicle were talking about. Thor wasn’t speaking much that Tony could see, but he looked utterly content to listen to Becca and Steve babble without providing much input.

Tony shrugged.

To each their own.

At least he’d brought a bottle of what Tony assumed was the booze that would get him and Steve drunk too. He narrowly resisted the urge to pout—he _had_ hoped Thor would’ve foreseen to bring more than a single bottle for the two of them.

Pepper walked in a few minutes later, engrossed in whatever legal documents she was undoubtedly reading, Rhodey pulling her along by one hand to make sure she didn’t run into anything.

Tony may have swooned a little.

Just a little.

Rhodey being a gentleman had always been a bit of a turn-on, and basically everything Pepper did made Tony’s heart feel like it grew three sizes—in the non-lethal, metaphorical way, of course.

He watched as Pepper greeted Becca, Thor and Steve with a hug, a little puzzled by the strange, long look Thor gave her when he released her from his arms, before he turned to Rhodey and shook his hand. He didn’t get a chance to really think on it more, because right then the twins decided to appear on his couch in a single blurred movement.

He hadn’t spent much time with Wanda and Pietro yet—he didn’t think any of them had, except maybe Natasha—but he looked forward to getting to know them.

He’d been the one voting for their addition to the team the most, despite them being underage at the time, and he hadn’t regretted the decision yet. Once they had gotten over their resentment for his bombs being used in the attack that killed their parents and little brother, they turned out to be wicked smart and incredibly resourceful.

He liked them, even if Speedy Gonzales was snarkier than Rogers and Becca combined, and Little Red had a meaner side-eye than the goddamned Black fucking Widow did.

The superspies suddenly appeared on his couch, a bottle of excellent vodka already clenched in Red Scare’s hand. Tony just threw his hands up and figured he didn’t even _want_ to know how they got past J.A.R.V.I.S.—

…he really did want to know though.

For Science.

Once Bruce had trudged in, looking for all intents and purposes like he was completely surprised to find himself suddenly surrounded by his teammates, Tony herded all of them towards the lounge area, where there were enough seats for all of them, and where they could put down all of the booze and snacks they’d collected.

Of course, ample seating still meant Clint and Natasha somehow twisted themselves together into a human pretzel, and Becca cuddled close to her Asgardian beefcake while Rogers seemed to come to the conclusion that Becca’s lap was the perfect place to rest his head while he squinted at all of them suspiciously—Tony had to admit Rogers _might_ be onto him just a little bit.

The twins commandeered one of the love seats for themselves, and the Flash kid grinned smugly at Bruce when he had to settle for a seat next to them.

Rhodey and Pepper perched next to each other on the sofa and Tony flung himself at their feet, very subtly tilting his head back into their knees until one of them dug their fingers into his hair and gave him the hair scratches he’d been angling for.

Excellent.

“Okay,” he said when everyone had settled with their respective favorite alcohol—and juice, for the not-yet-of-legal-drinking-age Maximoff twins (yes he _was_ a hypocrite)—within reach. “We’re going to play stupid drinking games like we’re still in college and spill some _juicy_ gossip and we’re going to generally _not_ be responsible tonight. Pep, darling, light of my life, put away the phone, I know you’re working.”

He felt rather than heard Pepper sigh before she handed her phone to Rhodey and accepted the glass of her favorite Merlot from him. “Thank you, sweetheart,” Tony heard her say quietly, and damn if that didn’t make his heart squeeze a little too.

He loved his partners, damn it. He was allowed to be sappy.

“Oh,” Clint exclaimed happily from somewhere in the human pretzel. “Let’s start with Truth or Dare! It’ll make everyone loosen up a little!”

“No it won’t,” Steve grumbled from his spot in Becca’s lap, but he quickly shut up when she patted his cheek consolingly and just pushed his lip out into a pout—God, it was easy to forget the guy was one of their younger members until he did shit like that.

“I’ll start,” Clint chirped. “Rogers, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Steve replied mulishly, sitting up straight and curling his legs beneath him.

“What did you _really_ think of the uniform Phil designed?” Clint grinned, winking at Steve lightly. Tony was actually inordinately pleased to see that Clint was able to say his late husband’s name without dissolving into hysterical sobbing.

Rogers hadn’t been the only hot mess in the Tower for a while there.

“Ugh,” Steve said eloquently, taking a sip of the Asgardian booze Thor handed him. “I hated it. Tight in all the wrong areas and flimsy as fuck. The tights the USO gave me were better. Those were _stretchy_. I could actually move properly in those. Plus they made my ass look _great_. There was an excessively appreciative audience.”

Tony hadn’t expected _that_, and burst into surprised laughter along with the others, hiccupping a little when they calmed down a little. Steve had the most shit-eating grin on his face and Tony feared for himself a little when Steve said, “Stark. Truth or dare.”

“Dare,” he said, pushing out his chin a little in defiance, keeping his eyes on Steve’s as the other man came up with an undoubtedly devious dare.

Steve grinned, baring all his teeth, like Tony had just played right into his cards—which he probably _had_, damn it—and chuckled. “I dare you to let Clint style your hair and your beard and to wear it like that for the rest of the night.”

Tony yelped indignantly while the others laughed and jeered at them, but refused to back down. “Fine,” he hissed, snatching one of the full shot glasses from the table and downing it. “But I need to be drunker for this.” He pointed one finger at Barton, who had excitedly extracted himself from his human pretzel and said, “But you’re not touching the beard. And I swear to God, Barton, if I have to shave my hair in the morning to save it, I will break your bow and _all_ of your arrows.”

Everyone laughed at his expense—even Rhodey and Pepper, the _traitors_—and Clint hopped off to the bathroom to gather whatever nefarious supplies he needed to deface Tony’s _beautiful _hair.

“I get to go right now though,” he demanded, glaring at Steve as Barton returned with an armful of brushes, pots of gel and hairspray—was that temporary _coloring spray?_—and immediately dumped all of it on Pepper’s lap. He barely had the chance to look at Steve’s nod in acquiescence before Barton dug his fingers into his hair and began combing through it.

“Becca,” Tony called, grinning wickedly at Becca, because he couldn’t actually get back at Steve directly, but he could do it like this. “Truth or dare?”

Becca groaned and sipped her whiskey before she replied, “I’m going to regret this, but dare.”

“Aha!” Tony exclaimed triumphantly, valiantly trying to ignore whatever atrocities Barton was committing on his hair. “I dare you to make out with Steve!”

“No!” Becca shouted, nose wrinkling in disgust while Steve made a face. “God, gross, no. I take it back, truth, give me truth instead!”

Tony wagged his finger at her with the smuggest grin he could muster, given that most of his higher brain function was preoccupied with Barton’s deeply questionable fashion choices.

“Them’s the rules, Baby-Becs. No take-backs. Someone make out with him!”

“Oh, come on,” Becca whined, tossing an olive in Tony’s direction. “I’ll answer two questions and take the shot, promise. Just let me switch it out. I don’t wanna kiss Steve, he’s _gross_.”

“Ah, _Krúttið mitt_,” Thor boomed with a large grin. “You do not do our friend justice. His kissing is _most_ satisfactory.” Tony burst into surprised laughter with the others, mostly because Steve’s face was tomato-red, and he seemed to be torn between pride and utter embarrassment, while Becca was looking between her boyfriend and the Capsicle with an expression that told him she wasn’t quite sure whether to be amused or angry at the reminder that her boyfriend had made out with her best friend.

“Really?” She pouted at Thor, frowning. “Maybe you should be kissing him then.”

Thor smirked and slung an arm around her shoulders, and Tony was far too amused to protest when Thor leaned across Becca to plant a smacking, barely-decent kiss to a speechless Cap’s lips—Tony would have _sworn _he saw _tongue_.

Scandalous.

“There,” Thor proclaimed happily once he had released Cap, turning to Tony with a shit-eating grin. “Someone has kissed our fair Captain. Will you allow Rebecca’s dare to be converted to two questions?”

“What the hell?!” Becca demanded right then, smacking Thor’s arm indignantly.

Tony watched, with slight amusement, as Thor tried to placate his rather irate girlfriend, while Steve sat frozen beside them, lips still slightly parted, like he couldn’t quite believe what happened.

Tony snorted at the thought.

“You okay in there, Capsicle?” he asked, grinning smugly when Steve visibly startled. “It can’t have been _that_ great of a kiss, it barely lasted a second.”

“I don’t know,” Wanda piped up from her seat, grinning at Thor in that peculiar way of hers. “I think if the Thunder God kissed me, I’d be speechless too.” Tony gaped at her—because that was the most he’d ever heard her say out loud in two years—and her brother elbowed her in the side while the others blinked at her. “What?” she asked innocently. “He’s very pretty.”

“Okay, okay,” Tony finally conceded, grinning a little at the flabbergasted expression on Becca’s face. “Two questions, Baby-Becs.”

“Fine,” she grumbled, leaning out of Thor’s embrace to down one of the shots set on the table.

Tony graciously waited until she had settled back onto the couch—and it had _nothing _at all to do with the vicious way Barton was yanking at his hair—before he pulled out the big guns. “So,” he began ominously. “Out of _everyone_ in this room that you’ve made out with,” he gestured grandly. “_Who_ is the _worst_ kisser?”

“Oh God,” Becca groaned dramatically as the group collectively shouted, “ooooooh.”

“Answer the question,” Clint jeered from behind Tony, the others cheering along with him. Becca was flushed as red as Steve had been a minute ago, and she looked _furious_. Oh, he was going to _pay_ for daring to ask her that in public.

“Come on then,” he said, grinning wickedly. “Who is it?”

Becca groaned and let her head fall back against Thor’s bicep for a moment before she sat up again. “You of all people _do not_ want me to answer that, Tony.”

Tony gasped. “Such _outrageous_ implication. I am an _excellent_ kisser.”

Becca smirked at him and shook her head. “Oh, I’m not saying you’re not. I’m just pointing out that you’re up against the Black Widow and the _God_ of Thunder.”

Said God of Thunder merely smiled beatifically, and the Widow _smirked_ at him—at _him_.

“Lies,” Tony exclaimed, because there had _definitely_ been extenuating circumstances the last time he’d kissed Becca. _Clearly_, she was just misremembering—it _had_ been a long time. “I demand a rematch. I was drunk off my ass the last time we made out, and so were you. I can do _way_ better.”

Pepper kicked him in the back—in a very dignified way, he was sure—and Tony muttered, “I mean, not that it _matters_,” because he wasn’t an _idiot_.

Becca just grinned smugly—the little shit, turning his question around on him like that—and leaned back against her stupidly pretty boyfriend. “Second question, Tony? Or do you and your hair need a minute to mourn first?”

Tony resisted the urge to run to the nearest bathroom to see what Barton had done to his _gorgeous_ hair. It could _wait_—he had _vengeance _to exact.

“Oh, I’m good,” he boasted. “I got a question.” He raised a hand and pointed towards Thor grimly. “About him.” Thor raised an eyebrow at him while Becca groaned. Tony wasn’t worried that Thor would be offended or embarrassed—they had a good enough rapport for him to feel comfortable asking this question in front of him, and Tony knew him well enough to know Thor would probably think it was funny, while Becca would _die_ of embarrassment.

“Tony, _no_,” Becca said sternly, as though she was the boss of him. He only listened when _Pepper_ or occasionally Rhodey told him not to do something.

“Oh, come on, Baby-Becs,” he whined playfully, waggling his eyebrows at her. “Thor doesn’t mind, do you, Point Break?”

Thor snorted. “Please, by all means, Stark.” He gave Becca a look that was _far_ too sappy for the situation and added, “There is little _elskan_ _mín_ could tell you that I would not be happy to share if asked myself.”

Becca smiled back and added, “And I wouldn’t tell you what he doesn’t want to share anyway.”

“Okay!” Tony exclaimed before those two could start making out on his couch—if anyone should be making out on his couch, it should be _him_. “None of us are blind… As Little Red said, your boy is pretty—but tell me, how _well-proportioned _is he?”

He smirked when the rest of the room actually fell silent, because honestly, _every single one of them_ had had a crush on their resident Thunder God at one point or another. Just because Becca was the only one to ever have acted on it—with Cap being a notable exception—didn’t mean they hadn’t all thought about making a move.

He held up his hands, relatively close together, and winked at her and Thor, who was chuckling beside her, shaking his head at them lightly. “Come on, just tell me when I’m getting close.”

“Tony, I’m not telling you the size of his _dick_,” Becca hissed, cheeks flushed as she downed another shot. “That’s really not—”

Nat interrupted and grinned wickedly at Becca. “Come on, _котенок_. Don’t be shy. He isn’t.”

The room erupted into jeering and catcalling and Tony barely caught Becca shooting Nat a comically betrayed look before she looked back at Tony and sighed. “More,” she finally said, gesturing towards the distance between his hands. “A _lot_ more.”

Tony raised an eyebrow and moved his hand, jaw dropping a little when Becca shook her head. They continued that way for a few long, tense moments, Becca indicating Tony to give another inch while an awed—slightly impressed—hush fell over the rest of the group.

Thor seemed fairly amused by the entire affair, but Tony was too engrossed in the moment to care.

“Stop,” Becca finally said. “That’s about it.”

“Holy fuck,” Tony choked, eyeing the distance between his hands with wide eyes—because _damn_, that was impressive—before he realized Steve was staring rather intently too. The super-soldier seemed deep in thought—and possibly drunker than Tony thought—before he nodded at Becca and casually remarked, “You sure? I thought it felt bigger than that.”

The room erupted into chaos again. 

_————————_

**Personal floor Of Steve Rogers, Becca Barnes and Thor, Avengers Tower, Manhattan, New York, U.S.A. **

**November 23rd, 2015**

**Thor**

Rebecca pressed into his arms as soon as he joined her in their bed in the Tower, mere hours after Stark’s impromptu game night, flinging an arm across his chest and a leg over his own. “You took too long,” she complained quietly, the cold tip of her nose pressing against the side of his chest.

“I apologize for the delay,” he hummed, slipping his arms around her to hold her close. He did so enjoy moments like these; he was grateful he had opened his heart to her when she had done so for him—that he had allowed himself to see where their relationship could take them, rather than run away from the possibility. “There was a… a matter that required my attention.”

“You gonna tell me what it is, or should I guess?” she murmured, shifting a little so her head rested on the pillow beside him.

“Letting you guess could be amusing,” he grumbled playfully, reaching out to push a few stray locks of hair from her face, watching her smile widen a little before she reached out to poke him in the side. He snorted and poked back, laughing at her high-pitched squeal, going along when she launched herself at him, allowing her a moment to pretend she could overpower him.

They wrestled for a moment before he rolled her onto her back and pinned her down, grinning down at her with the smuggest grin he could muster. “I won,” he said dryly.

“Gotcha right where I want you, though,” she replied cheekily, reaching up to tangle her fingers in his hair, pulling him down into a kiss.

After a few slow, soft, languid kisses, however, he pulled away to break the kiss—albeit very reluctantly—and rested his forehead against hers. “While I do enjoy your line of thinking, _Krúttið mitt_, I could actually use your advice on the matter.”

“Okay,” Becca nodded, smoothing her fingers through his hair before he rolled off of her, settling on his side beside her. She turned on her side too, propping her head up on her hand. “Tell me then.”

Thor sighed heavily, settling his hand atop Becca’s hip, idly rubbing at the soft fabric of her tank top.

“One of my secondary powers,” he explained slowly, trying to find the words to explain what he had sensed without coming off as… _creepy_. “It… involves the ability to sense pregnancy.” Becca’s eyebrow raised _high_ on her forehead, and Thor chuckled. “I suppose it sounds odd put like that. It is more… I can sense the budding life force. It is not a skill I have taken much time honing… I might be mistaken.”

“Okay,” Becca said slowly. “So who is it?”

“I believe it to be Lady Pepper,” he confessed, looking down to where his hand rested on Becca’s side. “I am simply unsure of how to proceed, and I hoped you might provide some insight. I am still not entirely certain of proper Midgardian protocol in all social situations, and I would hate to offend Lady Pepper with my suspicions.”

“Pep’s pregnant?” Becca breathed, eyes wide and shocked.

Thor nodded silently.

Becca blinked, before she nodded slowly. “And you’re not sure if you should tell her?”

“I think I must,” Thor admitted. “I do not even know if she herself is aware.” He bit his lip and gingerly inquired, “Do you know if they want children? The lady Pepper and Anthony and James?”

“No,” Becca said quietly. “I don’t know. I’ve never talked to them about it. I can’t imagine them being unhappy about it though. A little shocked, probably, but not unhappy. Rhodey has a passel of nieces and nephews and they all dote on them.”

Thor nodded silently, moving to pull Becca closer again, nestling her smaller frame against his larger one comfortably. “Do you want them?” Rebecca whispered so softly that he nearly did not hear her, her face pressed against his shoulder, keeping her expression hidden from him for a long heartbeat before she exhaled and looked up at him. “Children, I mean,” she added quietly, _uncertainly_.

Thor blinked at her, considering which answer to give, before he settled for honesty. “I did,” he conceded. “I… I always assumed I would have them with…”

“With Loki,” Becca finished for him, smiling sadly at him.

Thor nodded.

“How would that have worked?” she questioned curiously, setting her chin on his shoulder. “He was a man, wasn’t he? Could he—is that a thing, with _Aesir_?”

Thor smiled lightly and shook his head. “No, but Loki was special. He was born a shapeshifter. I always assumed we would be able to… well, that _he_ would be able to…” He sighed and shrugged a little, careful not to dislodge Becca. “And if he _hadn’t _been able to, I suppose we would have adopted. There were—there _are—_plenty of _Aesir_ children in need of a good family.”

He leaned down and kissed her forehead, lingering for a long moment before he asked, “Do you? Want children?”

“No,” she replied immediately, before blinking, apparently just as startled as Thor by her own harsh tone. “I don’t think…” She breathed shakily. “I don’t think I’d be a good parent. I don’t think I have what that takes, and I… I just don’t know.”

“Oh, _Krúttið mitt_,” Thor whispered, trailing his fingers through her hair tenderly. “You would be a wonderful parent, I’m certain.”

“What?” Becca looked up at him, eyes wide and confused as she shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t. Being a parent… that requires a kind of selflessness I just don’t have. Having a kid is… it’s making a lifelong sacrifice. I mean,” she floundered, shaking her head again. “I know that that’s not... that you get _so much_ in return, but… You gotta love that kid unconditionally, and I don’t know if I’d be able to do that. I would never… I know what it’s like to know that your parents’ love _is_ conditional. I couldn’t risk ever making my own child feel like that.”

Tears were running down her cheeks, and Thor _hated_ that she had such a skewed vision of herself still, that her parents—who had been _fools_, clearly, to toss aside someone like his Rebecca—had such a strong hold on her still. He wished he could go back and smack them in their faces, to show them the incredible woman their daughter would become.

“You could never,” Thor pledged, wiping her tears away with the pad of his thumb. “The fact that you worry means that you would never allow your child to feel like that.”

Becca laughed weakly, pulling him down for a quick kiss, her tears tasting salty on his lips.

His fingers fisted in her hair as he kissed her again, deeply. He was not sure what it was about humans that brought out the strongest emotions in him, but all he could feel was _desperation_ to show her that he would not doubt her for a second. She pulled away from him after a moment though, kissing his cheek tenderly. “I love you,” she whispered. 

“And I you, _Krúttið mitt_,” he replied when she wriggled around to get comfortable, “And you should know… were it possible… if I should choose to begin a family with someone other than Loki… I would surely choose you, Rebecca.”

He felt, rather than saw, her shaky exhale, her fingers curling around his hip tightly. “Thank you.”

Thor smiled weakly and pressed a kiss to her hair, falling asleep with a soft smile on his face.

_————————_

**Pepper Potts, Tony Stark and James Rhodes’ kitchen, Avengers Tower, New York, United States of America **

**November 24th, 2015**

**Pepper**

“It’s your own fault, you know,” she told Tony amusedly. Her boyfriend had an alcohol tolerance that both impressed and terrified her sometimes, but even Tony’s liver wasn’t able to handle liquor like an Asgardian God, a super soldier or a Russian super spy. She’d told him not to try it, to let them get their silly drinking games out of the way without trying to compete with them, but Tony was… well, Tony was _Tony _and he hadn’t been able to resist a challenge.

He looked like he was regretting it now.

She wasn’t even sure how he was _conscious_, much less able to get himself out of their bedroom and into the kitchen. Granted, he hadn’t gotten much further than that—he’d plonked down on the nearest seat and faceplanted on the kitchen island, moaning about the injustice of life or something.

Rhodey, smart man that he was, had stopped drinking around the same time she had, after the game of Truth or Dare had morphed into a game of Never Have I Ever that they could _clearly_ not keep up with, not with Tony “absolutely-no-shame” Stark, Thor “I-am-so-old-I’ve-done-everything” Odinson and Steve “I-only-_look_-innocent” Rogers playing.

“Hey honey,” she told Rhodey when he followed Tony in, smiling when he patted Tony on the head when he walked past him, and turning into his embrace to accept his customary kiss on the cheek. “You look better than Tony does.”

Rhodey snorted as he moved past her and opened the fridge. “Everyone looks better than Tony right now. He hasn’t found the time to destroy Clint’s masterpiece yet.” 

Pepper barely managed to suppress a grin at that.

Tony had indeed managed to get drunk enough to forget what Clint had done to his hair, and had fallen into bed wearing it just like Clint had styled it—which meant half of their pillowcases were now smeared with green and purple coloring spray, an unholy amount of glitter, and hairspray. The mohawk Clint had meticulously shaped Tony’s hair in _had_ deflated overnight, and his hair mostly looked messy now—it could’ve passed for his normal bedhead if not for the vibrant patches of bright green and purple and glitter in there. 

“Miss Potts,” J.A.R.V.I.S. interrupted her train of thought. “Master Thor is requesting access to your private floor. He informed me it is quite important he speak to you.”

Pepper exchanged a glance with Rhodey, who looked as confused by the early visit from their resident god as she felt, before she shrugged. “Let him in then, J.A.R.V.I.S.” She turned to Rhodey and smiled lightly. “Take care of Tony while I talk to Thor? I doubt it’s that serious, or he would’ve just busted in here without asking politely.”

Rhodey chuckled and nodded, catching her hand and drawing her close for a quick peck on the lips.

She relished in the touch for a moment before she pulled away, walking out of the kitchen to meet Thor in the hallway. The God of Thunder stood just inside her door, looking comically large in the narrow hallway—she wasn’t actually sure why they hadn’t designed the hallway to be bigger—and slightly underdressed in his sweatpants and t-shirt in the classy, if she did say so herself, décor she and her interior designer had painstakingly put together.

“Good morning,” she told him warmly, leaning in to hug him lightly when he approached. “What brings you here so early? I thought Becca would force you to stay in bed until early afternoon, _at least_.”

It was quite interesting to see how _bashful_ the man could be when you knew the right button to push—the man hadn’t batted an eyelash when they had been discussing the more _intimate_ details of his anatomy right in front of him yesterday, but when Pepper displayed any knowledge of how he and Becca felt about each other, he blushed almost as hard as Steve would when something sexual came up.

“Ah, well,” Thor shrugged, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, “Rebecca is still asleep, and I think I might join her again later, but I… I had something of importance to speak to you about. It did not feel right putting it off.”

That didn’t sound ominous _at all_.

She eyed him shrewdly, trying to find _any_ sort indication as to _what_ was so important he wouldn’t feel comfortable about waiting to talk to her, but she was coming up blank.

“Okay,” she sighed. “I think Rhodey’s making breakfast. Do you want to join them?”

He shuffled his feet a little, and it was so _odd_, because she’d never seen him act this nervous and uncertain before, and she had been there when he told Becca he loved her the first time—although they had _all_ been there, really, and he’d kind of blurted it out in the middle of their Christmas party when he turned up suddenly after having disappeared for two weeks.

“If you don’t mind, I think it’s best we speak in private first.”

She nodded, trying not to show that his hesitance was making her a little anxious, and nodded towards the living room. “Let’s talk there then.”

They didn’t speak while they settled, and she took the time to observe Thor. He’d looked at ease yesterday, calm and relaxed even when Becca had been mad at him for kissing Steve, although he’d been a little pensive at times—she hadn’t missed that he’d been looking at her a lot during the night too. She wondered if whatever he wanted to talk about had been on his mind for longer—but he looked downright uncomfortable now. Maybe it was something he’d been holding in for a while, something that was threatening to burst out of him if he tried to keep it in any longer.

She couldn’t fathom _what_ though.

It wasn’t like they were particularly close. They’d chatted, of course, and she liked it when he came to her for recommendations for things to do in the city, but they didn’t tend to spend a lot of time one-on-one unless it was in an official capacity—Stark Industries, after all, functioned as the Asgardian Ambassador’s official liaison still.

“So,” she said when he’d sat down on the seat opposite hers. “What can I do for you?”

Thor smiled for the first time since she had seen him this morning, and said, “I suppose what brings me here is more something I can do for you, Lady Pepper, rather than you for me.”

Pepper blinked. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

Thor swallowed thickly and looked away for a moment. “I do not know how much you know about the mythology surrounding me and my family in this world?” He paused, and Pepper shrugged, wholly confused and unsure where he was trying to go with this line of conversation.

“Not a lot,” she admitted. “No more than the general public, I’d say.”

Thor nodded. “I am mostly known as a God of Thunder. It is, however, not the only power the Norns have given me.”

Pepper nodded slowly, still unsure.

“I am also a God of Fertility,” he said, looking at her oddly. “I’ve not had much use for my other powers,” Thor admitted slowly. “Therefore I cannot say with absolute certainly, but…” he sighed and shrugged, looking up at her from beneath his eyelashes.

She blinked.

“I’m sorry,” she said slowly, “Thor, I don’t see what this has to do with me.”

Thor sighed and hung his head, and Pepper abruptly felt like she’d kicked a dog, her stomach twisting at the sorry sight he made. She _didn’t_ understand though, because he was making _no_ sense—what would him being a fertility god along with a thunder god have to—

Oh.

She froze, eyes wide and fixed on Thor.

He smiled wryly. “I cannot say with absolute certainty, but I do believe you might be with child.”

“Oh,” Pepper breathed, hand falling to her abdomen without any sort of conscious thought. She swallowed, mentally calculating if she’d be able to reschedule the appointments she had tomorrow, so she’d be able to go see her gynecologist, because the word of a god of fertility was all well and good, but she’d need to confirm it with an actual doctor before she could…

Before she could think of it as _real_.

“How do you know it’s me?” she asked Thor curiously. “Could it not be Natasha? Or Becca?”

“Ah,” Thor smiled. “Rebecca has been with none but me in quite some time. Aesir cannot reproduce with humans, so I am quite certain it was not her. As for the lady Natasha,” he fell silent and frowned. “I’ve been told she cannot bear children and has no wish to either.”

Pepper nodded slowly, feeling more than a little overwhelmed. It wasn’t that she, Rhodey and Tony had never talked about having children, or that they’d been particularly careful about it, but it had always seemed like a farfetched idea. Their careers had always come first, and they’d been happy with just the three of them. She’d never really _craved_ being a mother, but… that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be happy if… if Thor was correct.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said. “It’s…” She stopped and shook her head. “It’s not what I was expecting, but I’m glad you told me.”

“Of course,” Thor insisted sincerely. “It was the least I could do.”

She smiled tightly. “If you don’t mind, I think… I think I have to talk to my partners.”

Thor shot to his feet, nodding urgently. “Of course. It’s time I return to Rebecca anyway. She’ll be cross with me for leaving the bed before she woke. With some luck I can be back before she wakes.” He smiled charmingly and Pepper couldn’t help but smile back—it was a very nice smile, after all, and she was only human.

Becca was a lucky girl.

She followed him back out into the hallway, eyes lingering a little on the more relaxed set of his shoulders—she supposed the hard part was over now, for him. He stopped at the door, hesitating with his hand on the doorknob before he turned back to her with the sincerest expression she had ever seen on anyone—including Steve.

“I know we are not quite as… _close_ as the others, but… I do like to think of us all as a family, of a sorts,” he began, and the admittance made her feel warm. The Avengers, despite their clashing personalities, _had_ become somewhat of a—slightly dysfunctional—family. “I just want to say that if you need someone to speak to, regardless of what decision you make, I will be here for you,” Thor continued, and Pepper abruptly felt tears burning in her eyes.

She knew she wasn’t sure yet, that she hadn’t confirmed anything, but—_definitely_ hormones.

“Thank you,” she croaked. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Thor smiled. “Please do.”

Before she could say anything else, he slipped through the door, leaving her alone in the hallway, tears still burning in her eyes and her two partners waiting for her in the kitchen.

“Well,” she told herself, inhaling deeply and holding the breath for a moment before she exhaled shakily. She glanced down to her belly, as flat as it had been that morning, and hesitantly rested her hand on her lower abdomen. “Guess it’s time to talk to the men, isn’t it?”

“Here I go.”

_————————_


	5. The One In Asgard (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! 
> 
> This chapter marks the start of the Asgard chapters :-)  
Should you prefer to skip over this portion of the story (which focuses briefly on Becca and Thor's relationship and its development), you can read up until Becca drags Steve out of the room, and then skip to the end notes, where I'll summarize the events for you, so you'll be able to follow along. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Love, Annaelle

# Chapter Five

** _PEPPER POTTS PREGNANT? _ **

_Speculation is rampant that the CEO of Stark Industries, Pepper Potts, who is best known for her progressive business style and activism for the LGBTQIA+ community, is expecting a baby with long-time partners James Rhodes and Tony Stark. The rumors arose when Potts was spotted heading into a private gynecology clinic a few days ago, with what appeared to be “What To Expect When You’re Expecting” sticking out of the top of her purse. _

_Another source, reportedly close to Potts and her family, revealed that during the last dinner organized by Stark Industries, Potts toasted with a glass of sparkling water rather than her customary glass of white wine, and named this as a “highly unusual occurrence”. _

_Stark Industries’ rep told journalists, “I am not authorized to comment on Ms. Potts’ personal life,”...and therefore neither confirmed nor denied the rumors. This, in combination with complete radio silence from Stark, Potts and Rhodes themselves, has caused several stories about the alleged pregnancy to pop up across various social media sites and tabloids during the past 48 hours. _

_With all residents of the Avengers Tower remaining silent on the subject, we’ll have to wait and see if that baby book and the so-called high-profile wine-avoidance are the key clues that ultimately lead to the hashtag “Iron Baby” being confirmed as a reality. _

_—_Sharnaz Shahid_, “Pepper Potts Pregnant?”, _Hello! Online_, _November 27th, 2015

_————————_

**Personal floor Of Steve Rogers, Becca Barnes and Thor, Avengers Tower, Manhattan, New York, U.S.A. **

**November 28th, 2015 – 9:19 AM**

**Steve**

“Hey,” Steve smiled at Sam when the video call connected, doing his best to not look like he had been up half the night because of nightmares, because Sam _would_ know and he _would _try to make Steve talk about it, and Steve was _not_ in the mood to talk about seeing the love of his life fall off the side of a train and down a cliff because Steve hadn’t been fast enough to catch him with his current possibly-maybe-kind of boyfriend/friend.

“Hi,” Sam grinned. “How’s the Big Apple treating you?”

“Not bad,” Steve hummed, lifting his hand and wiggling it side to side. “I mean, there’s already been a party, Tony got me drunk, I made out with Thor, Pepper’s pregnant, so… You know, _busy_.”

“Shit,” Sam laughed, leaning back in his chair with a soft groan and the creak of metal springs. “I don’t even know where to start unpacking all of that.” Steve chuckled and leaned back into the couch too, leaning one foot up against Tony’s coffee table. He’d talked to Sam on video chat most days since they’d moved back to New York, and they’d texted on the days they hadn’t been able to free up enough private time for a video call.

They’d had a lot of things to arrange when they’d moved back here—there had been lengthy negotiations with S.H.I.E.L.D. to transfer them back from their daily duties at the Triskelion to Avenger-only missions, and even lengthier negotiations with Tony about moving back to the Tower for the time being rather than back to Becca’s apartment—and Steve hated just how busy they’d been.

He also sort of hated how… undecided he and Sam had left things.

They weren’t romantically involved—not really, and the few times they’d made out during movie night _didn’t_ count—but they _were_ something, and Steve moving back to another city probably wasn’t going to help them figure out just what that was.

They were friends, first and foremost, and Steve didn’t want to screw that up.

He liked having a friend that he hadn’t met while punching aliens and Nazis.

It was a refreshing change.

“You made out with Thor again?” Sam finally said, a shit-eating grin on his lips, and Steve _groaned_, because he _shouldn’t _have said that, and he still couldn’t quite believe Thor had done that, and that he’d been so _casual_ about it, and shook his head.

“It wasn’t—it was a dare,” he insisted, barely resisting the urge to cover his face to hide just how hard he was blushing. It _shouldn’t_ be a big deal, because he’d made out with Thor before, _much_ more intimately than this time, and Thor was his _friend_, and he was dating Becca, but…

Thor was _hot_ and Steve was _weak _and _gay_.

He’d known Thor for literal years, and considered him to be one of his best friends on this side of the ice, but Steve was just a man, and he still went a little weak in the knees too when Thor wandered out of the shower or the gym in nothing but a towel or—barely decent—shorts.

“Uh-huh,” Sam hummed, looking entirely unimpressed with Steve’s—weak—defense. “Whatever you say, pretty boy. You make a habit of making out with your friends?”

Steve grumbled wordlessly and pouted.

Sam laughed, shaking his head in exasperation. “Come on, Rogers,” he grinned. “You’re allowed to admit you liked it when the God of Thunder kissed you.”

“Except he’s also my best friend’s boyfriend,” Steve pointed out.

Sam nodded. “I see your point.”

Steve grunted and shook his head. “How’re things over there?”

Sam, thankfully, accepted the change in topic and regaled Steve with tales of his colleagues’ shenanigans, and Steve relaxed, laughing in the right places and interjecting where necessary.

He enjoyed how… _normal_ the conversation was.

He enjoyed how _simple_ and easy it was.

He enjoyed that talking to Sam wasn’t _hard_, like it was with the others, sometimes.

“Steve, can you help me find the—” Steve sighed at Becca when she _squealed_, dropping whatever she’d been holding and launching herself onto the couch beside Steve, one knee knocking into his back and the other very nearly kneeing him someplace he would much rather keep intact. “_Steve,_” she said sternly, “you didn’t tell me you were talking to your _boyfriend_.”

She shot a brilliant—deceptively nice—smile Sam’s way. “Hi Sam.”

“Hey Barnes,” Sam smirked.

“He’s not my boyfriend, Becs,” Steve sighed, because they’d been over this a million times already, and he knew she was teasing, but he… he didn’t want to rub his indecision about their relationship in Sam’s face either. He didn’t mind when she was teasing him—he would give as good as he got, it’s how they worked—but he wasn’t sure he liked it when she did it in front of Sam.

“Aw,” Becca pouted, leaning on Steve’s shoulder dramatically. “Why not? He’s cute.”

Sam cackled, and Steve abruptly remembered the _other_ reason Becca and Sam needed to remain separated _at all costs_.

They were _horrible_ little shits and they ganged up on him _every time_.

“Yeah, Rogers,” Sam grinned, leaning closer to the camera and smirking at Steve in a way that _did things_ to Steve. “Why not? You heard the lady. I’m cute. You afraid you can’t handle my glorious ass?”

Steve snorted and Becca fucking _cackled_. “Nah,” Steve smirked. “You ain’t shit, Wilson. _I _can handle it. _You_, on the other hand…” he raised his eyebrow suggestively, copying the way Bucky used to waggle his eyebrows when he wanted something, because he knew it _worked_, damn it.

Becca nodded sagely beside him. “It _is_ America’s ass, you know. It’s what all the tabloids are saying.”

“Oh, well, if the tabloids are saying so,” Sam said sarcastically.

“You two are horrible,” Steve told Becca and Sam seriously, falling back into the couch with a pout. “I vote all discussions about my ass get vacated immediately.”

“Overruled,” Becca said gleefully, and Sam yelled, “Nope!”

Steve glared at her, feeling abjectly horrified and a little betrayed. Becca just shrugged. “You kissed my boyfriend, hotshot. I get a free pass.”

Sam cackled again and Steve flushed. “He kissed me,” he argued ineffectively. “It was a dare!”

Sam and Becca just dissolved into giggles and Steve shook his head exasperatedly. He looked up at the screen in time to catch Sam smiling at him, fond and amused, and it wasn’t nearly as awkward as he’d thought it would be to look at the friend he’d tried to date and might try to date again in the future and discuss the other friend that he’d accidentally made out with again.

“Okay,” Becca said when they’d sobered up a little, leaning forward to grin at Sam. “Sorry to cut this short, lover boy, but I’m leaving in like four hours, and I need Steve to help me get ready.”

“I’ll allow it,” Sam nodded graciously. “I need to get to my mama’s Sunday dinner anyway.” He raised an eyebrow at Steve and smirked. “You know, if the paparazzi will leave my _fine_ black ass be.” Becca cackled and Steve shook his head, pulling a pillow onto his lap and face planting into it.

He didn’t know why he bothered.

“I hate you,” he told the pillow.

“Aw, sugar,” Becca drawled. “You break my heart.”

Sam laughed, and Steve smiled into his pillow. “Have fun in Asgard,” Sam told Becca, “Tell that dramatic puppy to call me back tomorrow.”

Steve looked up a little. “I ain’t dramatic,” he asserted.

“Sure,” Sam chuckled. “Call me later.”

He hung up before Steve could say anything else, and J.A.R.V.I.S. collapsed the holographic screen, leaving him and Becca in a now distressingly empty living room.

“Come on,” Becca told him. “I need your help picking what I’m bringing to Asgard.”

Steve frowned. “You leave in four hours.”

“I know,” Becca stressed. “_That_ is why I need your help.”

Steve groaned. “You’re a disaster,” he said, but allowed Becca to tug him out of the room by his hand anyway. Becca made his sort-of-maybe-kind-of boyfriend hang up on him, so it wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

As long as she didn’t make him help her pick lingerie again.

_————————_

** _EARTH APPOINTS FIRST AMBASSADOR FOR ASGARD _ **

_REBECCA BARNES JUNIOR SET TO DEPART TO ASGARD FOR FIRST DIPLOMATIC MISSION WITHIN SIX MONTHS. _

_NEW YORK _ _— Rebecca Barnes, a career soldier and S.H.I.E.L.D. agent from Brooklyn, New York, has rubbed elbows with the U.S.A.’s rich and famous since childhood. As one of the only grandchildren to Dr. Rebecca Barnes Sr. and former state senator James Proctor, and Margaret “Peggy” Carter’s godchild, Barnes has been thrust into the spotlight from childhood on, when a picture of a one-year-old Rebecca Barnes toddling along with a teenaged Tony Stark’s hands holding her up was published in various tabloids and popular media outlets. _

_[...]made headlines again at twenty-two, when she was rescued by Tony Stark’s Iron Man from a six-month captivity by an unknown terrorist group, and again four years later for fighting alongside the original Avengers during the Battle of New York. _

_[...]Barnes, 29, may face her toughest and most public posting yet: as Earth and the Avengers’ first official ambassador to visit Asgard. [...]appointment is believed to be a response to the Prince of Asgard’s official position on Earth as Asgard’s ambassador. Skeptics have expressed doubts about Barnes’ qualifications for the position beyond her status as Thor of Asgard’s longtime romantic partner, but Barnes refuted said doubts in a short press conference shortly after her appointment._

_“While I certainly may not appear the most qualified, I assure you no one else is more prepared to take on the role[...] I will seek to impart our values, our institutions and our thoughts on human rights to Asgard and its rulers, and I will implore them to maintain good relations between our planets.” _

_“[...] in a sense that diplomacy is by nature a long-term business, where one does not necessarily see goals being fulfilled from one day to the next,” Thor Odinson, Prince and Ambassador of Asgard said in response to being asked if he felt establishing diplomatic relations would improve Asgardian relations with some of Earth’s less receptive inhabitants. _

_—_Adam Satariano, _“The World’s First Ambassador to Asgard”_, The New York Times, 13 May 2015

_————————_

**Town Square, Idavoll, Asgard**

**November 28th, 2015 – 2:36 PM (Earth UCT+1) **

**Becca**

Although Thor had been planning their trip to Asgard for months by now, Becca had to admit she hadn’t given a lot of thought to what Thor’s homeland would _actually_ be like.

He had spoken of it plenty of times over the past few years, and had even aided Steve in sketching a few of his favorite places within the city and the palace. She _knew,_ abstractly, what it looked like, and she knew that their societal structure was a lot more similar to 18th-century British high society than it was to 21st century American society.

Somehow, though, despite Thor referring to the city as ‘The Golden City’ more than once, she’d still expected it to be dull and gray; the streets muddy and wet, rats scurrying over the cobblestones as orphaned children and beggars sat in the gutter, pleading for scraps of food and coin. Her vision of Asgard, of a society similar to their 18th century one, had likely been colored by shitty Hollywood movies.

This though… this was not what she thought it would be.

The bustling liveliness of the city startled her, and there were splashes of color where she had envisioned only gray—small stalls that were laden with richly colored fabrics and jewels, merchants shouting over one another to gain their potential buyer’s attention, shockingly green ivy that climbed the façade of most houses, and people that bustled about, arms filled with purchases and bright smiles lingering on their lips. There were children playing in the corner of the square, near a small fountain, all dressed from head to toe in warm tunics and furs, yelling and laughing with a carefree air she couldn’t recall ever having seen before, not _really_.

It reminded her, oddly, more of the bazaars she’d seen in the Middle East than anything else.

She could see several narrow streets leading away from the square, all packed with merchants and people, and even a busker, singing at the top of his lungs about a fair maiden and a crude sailor.

“Woah,” she breathed, tightening her fingers in Thor’s sleeve, “this is…”

“Yes,” Thor offered her a broad smile, sweeping his hand in a gesture that encompassed the entire city square. “It is a glorious sight, isn’t it?”

She nodded, chancing a glance over her shoulder towards the attendants who had met them just outside of the Himinbjörg, waiting in a neat, orderly line on the rainbow bridge. She could feel their eyes on them constantly, and she could _hear_ the silent judgement when she took Thor’s arm rather than walk a step behind him, as the lead attendant had clearly expected her to do.

Thor, thankfully, had shaken his head in dismissal when the man made to protest, and led her onto the bridge and into the city by his side.

“My father,” Thor began hesitantly, “has apparently deigned to organize a feast in our honor.” He didn’t sound too excited about the prospect, and she suspected this might be one of the less pleasant things he had warned her they would have to endure during their stay on Asgard.

He had told her that his father did not approve of their relationship, and that he would likely seek to make things as unpleasant as possible while they were there.

“Okay,” she nodded. “What does that mean? What do we have to do?”

Thor grinned, and pointed towards one of the colorful stalls at the far end of the square, where she could just barely see an elderly woman shuffling around as she helped the variety of people that halted at the stall to purchase something. “First, we outfit you with appropriate garments,” he explained. “My father undoubtedly waited until the very last moment to inform me of the feast in the hopes you would be forced to decline attending due to a lack of appropriate clothing.”

He grinned rakishly, uncharacteristically pleased to outwit his father, even in such a small, seemingly insignificant way. “Fortunately, Lady Aase should be able to aid us.”

She nodded, slightly apprehensive, but willingly let him guide her through the crowd—and if she grasped his arm a little tighter and shuffled a little closer to him than strictly necessary, that was no one’s business but hers. She was, after all, in a different land—on a different _planet_—and Thor was the only person around that she actually knew. 

And though she was on the verge of panicking a little—because even after _years_ of being back and living in New York goddamned City, she did not always do well with crowds—she trusted Thor.

Thor stopped in front of the stall, waiting patiently as Aase helped a young woman choose what appeared to be some kind of blue silk skirt. Becca fidgeted nervously as she eyed the variety of garments laid out on the table and in the open tent behind the stall.

“So…” she drawled nervously, rubbing her fingers across his arm, focusing on the feel of the fabric of his cloak between her fingers. “I’d have thought being the crown prince would give you access to personal seamstresses and the like. Any reason we’re here instead?”

“Ah,” he chuckled, “it _does_, but I fear they might seek to delay the process if my father told them to. Aase, on the other hand, cares very little for such politics. As long as you are kind to her, she will likely adopt you and outfit you with more clothes than you will ever be able to wear.” Thor shrugged and added, “She was often like a grandmother to us. Mother’s parents died long before we were born and father’s parents died in the First War with Jotunheim. She was kind to us when we were little.”

Her eyes widened as she returned her gaze to the lively elderly woman in the tent, slightly more nervous now that she knew what Thor’s connection to the woman was.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t prepared to meet his family and friends—it _was_ the express purpose of this trip, after all—but that didn’t mean she wasn’t nervous about it. The knowledge that his father didn’t approve of their relationship, and that he likely never would, regardless of how long they stayed together, ate at her more than she would ever admit out loud, even to Thor.

Especially to Thor.

She’d never thought she’d actually care about getting any parent’s approval so much, but here she was.

“Odinson, ye great big clodhopper,” the woman shouted when she had accepted a handful of coins from her final customer, hobbling out of the stall towards them. “Have ye finally deigned us worthy of visiting again, down ‘ere in the slumps?” Becca watched with no small amount of amusement as the old, wizened woman patted Thor’s cheek—her heart squeezing in fond exasperation when he bent forward so she could reach at all—chattering about how he’d been gone too long and she should whoop him for abandoning her all to her lonesome before she finally turned her attention to Becca.

“And _this_ must be the reason _why_ ye’ve abandoned Asgard in favor of Midgard of late?” the woman inquired shrewdly, eyeing Becca up and down carefully after she shoved Thor aside—and Becca resisted the urge to squirm beneath the woman’s gaze—before nodding with an approving smile.

“This is my Lady Rebecca,” Thor told her proudly.

“Very pretty,” Aase nodded. “Good childbearing hips. Ye’ll bear him strong children.” She patted Becca’s cheek and turned away before she could say anything to that, before she could even _think_ about a denial—because she _couldn’t_, she was _human_, and even if she could, she didn’t think she wanted to.

“Ah, Aase,” Thor said, likely understanding how uncomfortable Becca was about the subject. “You know Aesir cannot procreate with Midgardians.”

Aase eyed them both intently, her pale eyes flickering between her and Thor a few times before she shook her head. “_Seiðr_ is unpredictable, young man,” she said sternly. “Ye’d do well to remember that.” 

Becca bristled a little at the implication, but Aase nodded decisively and turned back to Thor before she could say anything about it. “Now I presume ye’re here because of this _quaint_ get-together our King announced this morning?” She grinned toothily and hobbled back into the stall. “Caused _quite_ the stir with such last-minute announcement. It’s very nearly _scandalous.” _

“Indeed,” Thor sighed, reaching out to take one of Becca’s hands in his, drawing her closer again. “I fear the dresses I had fashioned for Rebecca are not suited for such occasion, since I did not anticipate such formal occasion occurring during our stay here at all.”

Becca winced and glanced towards Aase, who was nodding along, sifting through the piles of fabric on the table with a thoughtful expression on her wrinkled face. “Aye, I imagine ye didn’t,” she told him wryly. “Come along then, _Frøken_. “We’ll get ye settled.”

After a quick glance to Thor, who nodded encouragingly at her, she followed Aase into the tent that had been pitched behind the little table that held the piles of fabrics. “Now you watch my wares, Odinson,” Aase said, turning around to point one finger at Thor. “I’ll help yer lass find some appropriate clothin’. This is no place fer men—even princely ones. Get us some cherry pie too.”

Becca watched in astonishment as the elderly woman pressed a few coins into Thor’s hand—as though he _needed_ her to pay for him—and shooed him out of the tent, pulling the large flap at the front closed.

“Now,” Aase’s gravelly voice drew her attention back to where the older lady stood. “Let’s get started.”

_————————_

**GLADSHEIM, VALASKAILF, ASGARD **

**NOVEMBER 28TH, 2015 – 8:27PM (EARTH UCT+1)**

**THOR**

Thor had, in his long years of life, attended many a feast thrown at his own behest. He was, after all, Asgard’s favored son, its golden prince and its valiant protector. While he had relished in the feasts readily when he had been younger and, perhaps, less wise, he found them tedious now, filled with people that sought his father’s favor like spoiled children clamoring for attention. Worse, even, was that his father entertained such fools, and allowed them access into their hallowed halls, whereas he would once have shunned them for degrading themselves so.

Of course, the feast today was one of little import and great significance at the same time. Thor had not attended a feast in his honor since Loki had fallen to Malekith’s ilk, and he had certainly never done so with his Midgardian lover by his side. While tradition forbade him from spending the entire evening with Rebecca and his friends, it allowed enough leeway for him to meet her at the gilded doors, to escort her inside.

He had not seen her since his father had dispatched a passel of handmaidens, one blushing fiercer than the next when they had seen him kiss Rebecca goodbye, to escort her to the chambers that had been prepared for her, and he had not yet seen her fully adorned in the garb of his people.

It was, honestly, a breathtaking sight.

He had been in love with her for some time—longer, honestly, than he had allowed himself to admit, even within the relatively private confines of his own mind—and he had always thought her beautiful, but it was _different_ to see her… to see her as she would have appeared if she had been born Asgardian. It was both wonderful and excruciating to imagine what it might’ve been like if she had been born on Asgard rather than Earth.

His father, certainly, would not hate her so much.

“You look breathtaking,” he told her when he reached her, reaching out to still her trembling hands with his own. He knew she was likely nervous—it was not as though he could blame her for it—this was, in all likelihood, unlike anything she had ever done before, and she had not been able to prepare for the evening as thoroughly as Thor would otherwise have insisted.

There were far too many unspoken rules, too many rigid guidelines to steer social interaction during such events, too many ways one could take insult and seek retribution against his Rebecca.

Sif, of course, much more schooled in the ways of Aesir court, had sworn she would not leave Rebecca’s side during the feast, and Hogun had pledged the same, and it made Thor feel marginally better, to know that his friends would seek to protect Rebecca from the whims of nobility when he would be prevented of doing so himself by courtly duties.

“Thank you,” Becca sighed, shaking her head and dropping one hand to rest against her sternum. “I can’t breathe, and I feel like this thing has my boobs shoved up to my chin, but at least it looks good.” She gave him a breathless smile and winked when he couldn’t help but eye said bosom appreciatively—she _did_ look positively delectable.

Thor chuckled and slightly brushed his fingers across the tops of her breasts, relishing in her affronted expression. “In such case,” he grinned, “I look forward to returning you to your chambers and aiding you in…” he trailed his hand down the exaggerated curve of her waist, coming to rest lightly on her hip, where the soft fabric of her deep red dress flared, falling loosely around her legs, “… _removing_ such constricting attire.”

Becca smirked and leaned up onto her toes to sling her arms around his neck. “You know you have more of an accent when you’re here?” She pecked his lips quickly. “It’s kind of hot.”

“Is it?”

He smirked, slipping his arms around her waist, lifting her slightly off her feet so he could kiss her properly, as he had not had the chance to do since they had arrived in Asgard. She returned his affection gladly, smiling against his lips and pressing herself against him, only moving when one of his father’s _Einherjar _coughed loudly.

Thor almost smiled when she merely turned her head a little to look at the man, raising a single eyebrow as if to question why he dared interrupt them. While Thor questioned the wisdom of such blatant disrespect, he certainly appreciated the sentiment.

“I fear our time has run out,” he disclosed with an intimate smile, smoothing his hands down her back as she lowered herself down to stand on her own two feet again.

“Well, I guess we’ve got to entertain the masses,” Becca said, rolling her eyes as she stepped out of his embrace. Thor grinned, lifting her hand to his lips for a brief kiss, before turning to the large, gilded double doors, awaiting their opening.

“They will announce us,” he told Rebecca, although he was certain Sif would have already informed her of the structure of the feast. “And then Father will offer me first dance.”

“Which you will refuse,” Becca said matter-of-factly, throwing him for a moment.

It was, of course, not entirely untrue.

He had, in the past, always refused the first dance when Loki had not been in attendance, for it would’ve proven grievous insult to his brother-betrothed if he were to dance _inn_ _mátki_ _munr_ with another. The first dance of a feast was one of great importance—Thor did not know the history of it, but his mother had always impressed upon him to dance it with no one but those he held dearest to his heart.

For much time, that had been Loki.

Now, a choice stood to be made.

He had shared years with Rebecca, and planned to spend many more by her side. It was a commitment he was pleased to make, but it was one he had, so far, only been able to honor on Earth. Perhaps tonight, at the feast his father had organized to separate him from his beloved—he would relish in the opportunity to turn his father’s wicked intentions on their head, and use the situation to his advantage.

“Perhaps I won’t, this time,” he finally said.

Becca turned to him, eyes wide and forehead creased into a frown. “What are you—”

The doors opened.

_————————_

** 8:58 PM (EARTH UCT+1)**

The feast, as many of the feasts his father had organized during his reign as King of the Nine, was a carefully constructed show of opulence and thinly veiled decadence. It served to be a strict reminder to the other Nine that they were only _allowed_ to prosper and thrive—or in the case of Jötunheimr, _survive—_because his father, in his benevolence, willed it so.

While he had not noticed the arrogance and cruelty of such displays for many years, Thor now found it nigh impossible to see anything else in his father’s feasts.

There was little coincidence in the way the All-Father had arranged tonight’s guest list, and the presence of dozens of the Nine’s most eligible princesses and princes had only made him smile harder when he had offered Rebecca his hand when he was asked to open the feast with a dance.

He didn’t doubt that Becca had noticed the sudden, stunned silence when he had _taken_ the honor to open the feast, rather than rejecting it, as he always had before when Loki was not in attendance. She likely did not know what the dance itself _signified_, what it meant to those in attendance, to see him dance _inn_ _mátki_ _munr _with his Midgardian lover, but he had little doubt she would demand an explanation as soon as they were alone.

“Thank you for the dance,” he’d whispered when the last notes of the music disappeared, brushing his lips across hers in a feather light kiss. “I will find you once the masses release me.”

Becca had merely smiled at him, kind and understanding even when he was undeserving of it. “You better,” she’d told him sternly, before she had stepped from his embrace, returning to Sif’s side with naught to show for their intimate moment but a faint flush to her cheeks. 

He didn’t know how long it’d been since then, and found himself even less conscious of the meaningless prattle of conversation he had been forced to engage in since then, always dimly aware of Becca’s presence on the periphery of his consciousness, laughing with Sif in the corner of his eye, sweeping Fandral across the dance floor with an unholy amount of glee, fitting in with the rabble he called friends better than he had dared dream she would.

He was glad to see she appeared to be having a grand time, despite her initial reluctance to attend, and he only wished he could enjoy the evening as much as she did. Alas, many of the foreign dignitaries, while undoubtedly clever and highly educated and perfectly lovely conversational partners, seemed woefully dull in comparison to his friends—Midgardian and Asgardian alike.

He struggled to pay attention to whatever banal tale Lady Gróa insisted on telling him, attempting to smile when prompted and interject whenever she required his input, but finding the entire experience severely lacking.

He recalled he had enjoyed conversing with her, once upon a time, when he had been willing to flirt with whoever caught his eye at the time, but he was disappointed to learn that she seemed under the impression that his “_Midgardian” _would never be able to keep him occupied.

She spoke of his Rebecca almost as though she were a quaint pet he’d acquired.

“Apologies for the interruption,” a new, unfamiliar, but infinitely _pleasing_ voice—with a thicker Vanaheim accent than he was used to hearing at occasions such as this—interrupted Lady Gróa in the middle of her tale about the trees she was cultivating to ensure the continued growth of Golden Apples. “If I could borrow the Prince for a moment?”

He turned, heedless of the little voice in his head—that sounded suspiciously like Loki—that insisted something didn’t feel right. The music that played seemed dimmed, somehow, when he first laid eyes on the woman that stood behind him. Her bright, copper curls gleamed in the light of the candles, and Thor was struck by her beauty at once—he was, as Stark liked to joke, a taken man, but he was certainly not a blind one.

She stood almost as tall as him, full lips curled into an easy smile, dark eyes riveted on his. He felt abruptly lightheaded, and swayed a little where he stood. There was something about this woman that was trying its hardest to _lure_, to _seduce_, and had he been a lesser man, Thor suspected he may have easily fallen for whatever plot she sought to carry out.

“I’m Lorelei,” she said softly, fluttering her eyelashes in a way that he could admit was _exceptionally_ aesthetically pleasing, but—

Something wasn’t right about her.

A spell, likely, of some sort.

Thor had never had much talent for spell weaving himself, but he had grown up with a mother who had been raised by witches and a brother-betrothed who liked to learn the most complicated spells he could, just to prove to those that doubted he was capable.

Thor, most unfortunately, had usually been his guinea pig.

It had had led to him learning to recognize such things long ago.

“What do you want?” he demanded, perhaps treading far less cautiously than the situation demanded. “Who are you really?”

Her smile faltered just barely, but enough for him to notice.

“I apologize,” she replied coquettishly. “I don’t know what you mean. My name _is_ Lorelei. I merely wanted to make your acquaintance while you were here on Asgard. You are a difficult man to find, these days.” She paused, reconsidering, and then smiled lightly. “For those not permitted to travel the realms freely, of course.”

There was nothing outwardly threatening about her persona, and Thor could not say why her presence and her insistence on conversation vexed him so, but the annoyance, the blatant _anger_ towards the woman was there nonetheless, pulsing beneath his skin like barely restrained lightning.

“Cease your tricks, _V__ǫlva_,” he spat. “What do you want?”

He looked around, finding that some people had turned towards them, had _noticed_ their Prince’s agitation, at least—but still no _Einherjar _moved towards them, even though they should have moved at the very first sign of fracas, _especially_ since it involved him.

When he returned his gaze to the woman—_Lorelei_—she had moved closer, moving towards him with the assessing, cool gaze of a predator, eyeing him as one would an opponent.

Good.

Whatever she had planned, he was in no gaming mood.

“You _are _different then,” she said, almost amused, one eyebrow raised. “I almost didn’t believe him, when he told me.”

“Speak _plainly_, woman,” he barked. “I have enough grounds to have you arrested already. Weaving a spell to try to entice anyone is a capital offense in Asgard. I imagine the punishment is much more severe when you _foolishly _try to cast such weavings on a prince. Do not make things worse for yourself.” 

She chuckled, as though the very _idea_ of him threatening arrest was ludicrous, and shook her head. “I met him once. We had similar interests. You brother-betrothed and I, that is. _Former_ betrothed, I should say. Have you told your pet human what dancing _inn_ _mátki_ _munr _with her means to those who witnessed it here?”

The implication was not lost on him, and he _seethed_ quietly at the idea of having to justify himself to this... this _no one_. Not a woman of noble birth, not a member of his family, not a friend—not even a spurned once-lover.

He did not owe words to her or anyone but Rebecca.

“She knows what she needs to,” he replied honestly, for he had nothing to hide, nothing to feel shamed about. “And when she wishes to learn more, I shall gladly tell her. When we are alone, in the bed that we share—the bed I _choose_ to share with her.”

Lorelei laughed, a high, grating sound, and shook her head. “Who would’ve thought to see this day? The mighty God of Thunder ensnared by a mere _mortal_. One that has considerable skill in trickery, clearly. You have clearly defined tastes, my Prince.” 

Thor raised an eyebrow, hardly impressed by the weak implication, and smirked, blatantly looking the woman up and down. “Oh, I assure you, Lady Lorelei, _she_ needed no trickery to convince me to join her between her sheets.”

Lorelei’s otherwise beautiful face contorted into a twisted mask of anger and hatred, and she started forward, her hand raised towards him, the air around her fingers trembling with unrestrained _Seiðr_. Thor _hummed_, loosening his grip on the thunder that roiled beneath his skin at all times, allowing lightning to play between his fingertips even as the room shook, ever so lightly, around them.

Conversation around them stilled abruptly, and it was as though the crowd had only now realized the threat of two powerful _Seiðr_ users colliding in their midst.

He dared not see why his father had not approached—if this… this Lorelei had been able to use her_ Seiðr_ to subdue even his father, Thor feared that he would not be able to subdue her. If not… he loathed to look, although he knew it was equally, if not more, likely he would find his father lounging on the throne, waiting to see how Thor would handle the problem.

Guards,” he spoke, lowering his voice to a timbre he _knew_ instilled fear in those that opposed him. “Seize this _völva_ and see her to one of the cells guarded by _Seiðr_.” He did not take his eyes off Lorelei’s darker ones, ever so conscious of the fact that she _would_ attack if he dared show the slightest of weaknesses.

Her lips curled into a mocking smile when none moved to his aid, and Thor felt a frissom of dread, a preternatural shiver that heeded _caution_ run down his spine.

“They’ll not come to your aid, my prince,” she smiled cruelly. “They cannot. Their will is mine now. As I would have yours. Of course, this would’ve been _much_ easier on you if you’d just succumbed.”

“I fear I’m not the habit of doing things the easy way,” he quipped.

“No,” Lorelei smirked. “I see that.”

The ground beneath his feet trembled ominously, and the hairs on the back of his neck raised.

The amount of pure _seiðr_ that the woman sought to summon was both impressive and frightening, for it was enough to level the entire palace to the ground with a single, whispered word. The people that surrounded them moved disjointedly, chaotically, frightened whispers working up to a deafening crescendo, and Thor could only hope that Sif and the Warriors Three had enough presence of mind to get Rebecca to safety before he and this _völva_ collided. 

Not, of course, that he did not hold her capable of defending herself when the situation called for it, but because he feared that no matter her heart and her bravery, she stood little chance against _seiðr_. 

“Perhaps I’ll make your little pet watch,” Lorelei chuckled. “When I have your mind, I’ll take your body. Show her how Aesir _truly_ fuck. Or I could have you fuck her—without holding back. You’d break her pathetic little body into pieces, and you wouldn’t even care. It’s of little consequence,” she waved her hand. “It’s not like she matters anyway.”

Thor stiffened, lightning springing to his fingertips without conscious thought. “_Don’t_ talk about her like that.” Whereas he had merely been annoyed by the woman before, he was _enraged_ now. 

“Why?” Lorelei sneered, an ugly, angry expression twisting her beautiful features. “Afraid to hear the truth, _prince_? I know I’m not the only one thinking such things. They all just _wait_. They _bide_ their time, and when you look away, and you will, they’ll have her. And they’ll break her. As they broke your brother-betrothed.”

“_Shut up!” _Thor bellowed, and the crowd _gasped_ when the entirety of the palace _trembled _beneath the weight of his barely contained rage.

Even Lorelei looked rattled for a split-second.

Unfortunately, the woman bounced back quickly enough, and she sneered, “So _that_ is it, my prince? Others touching what you deem belongs to you… You’re weak. All you need is a _bikkja_ willing to spread their legs for you and they’ve got you wrapped around their little finger.”

Lorelei’s face was contorted into an ugly mask of anger and disgust, and her skin was slowly turning red and splotchy, and for a moment, she reminded him of his father during particularly challenging arguments and rows. “You’re not worthy of what you possess,” she said gravely. “Not to worry. I’ll see your mind set to rights.”

And before he realized what was happening, she raised her hand, woven spell moving thickly between her fingers, whispering the words that would take his mind, his _will_ from him and—

It happened so fast he barely had the time to process before a loud _bang_ thundered through the hall, and Lorelei _screamed_, the _seiðr _fleeing from her fingers as blood bloomed from the gunshot wound in her abdomen.

Thor blinked, looking past Lorelei to find Rebecca—because _of course_ Rebecca had brought a gun to Asgard, he should have seen this coming—standing beside a shocked Sif, her eyes wide and a little apprehensive as she lowered her weapon, and Thor…

Thor did _not_ have time to think on how incredibly _arousing_ it was to remember Rebecca was a warrior in her own right—and how foolish he had been for forgetting it for even a moment. He needed to set such thoughts aside.

His father had moved from his throne, finally, approaching Thor with a thunderous expression, and a bullet would not slow down Lorelei for long.

“Guards,” Thor bellowed, grinning with satisfaction when several of the men jumped, “lock her in the _seiðr _cells. Gag her and bind her.”

He looked up at Rebecca, who was being herded out of the hall by Sif, and grinned at her.

He could deal with his daring little mortal later.

_————————_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, so, Becca and Thor arrive in Asgard and are promptly told that they're expected at a formal feast. Thor hadn't prepared for this, and takes Becca to an old friend, who makes sure she has appropriate dresses for the occasion. 
> 
> At the feast, Thor dances the opening dance with Rebecca, causing quite the stir, because he'd previously only danced the dance with Loki. Afterwards, a sorceress named Lorelei appears and tries to use seidr to seduce him, but he resists her. Before he can fight her though, Becca shoots her from across the hall. 
> 
> That's it for this week :D


	6. The One In Asgard (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! 
> 
> Sorry for the delay on this one :)   
This is another Asgard chapter, so check the end notes again if you prefer not to read about Becca and Thor. 
> 
> Love,   
Annaelle

# Chapter Six

** _PEPPER POTTS IS PREGNANT AND BREAKS TWITTER WITH ADORABLE PREGNANCY ANNOUNCEMENT _ **

_MANHATTAN, NEW YORK _— _Pepper Potts, C.E.O. of Stark Industries and longtime girlfriend of Tony Stark and Col. James Rhodes, is having a baby, and like everything else she has done since the news of her polyamorous relationship with Rhodes and Stark, she is doing so on her own terms. _

_[...]Potts, 42, is pregnant with her first child, and used the unconventional, but adorable video she dropped on her official Twitter account yesterday morning to confirm the rumors of a pregnancy that have been floating around for the past few days. _

_ [WATCH HERE: PEPPER POTTS SURPRISES TONY STARK, JAMES RHODES AND STEVE ROGERS WITH ADORABLE PREGNANCY ANNOUNCEMENT.] _

_She followed her video announcement with a tweet stating, “I have seen many children born into homes with two parents, who end up arguing, fighting, and divorcing. The person this affects the most is the child. I don’t think our situation, our relationship, will be detrimental to our child because it will ensure that our child will be _loved_. [...] It takes a village, and we have a big, loving, crazy village. I cannot wait to begin this next part of our lives together.” _

_The announcement was retweeted by Col. Rhodes and Tony Stark within seconds—we cover the adorable and surprisingly eloquent reaction of the two fathers-to-be here in this podcast—as well as by Captain Rogers almost immediately after that, all with happy and congratulatory messages. Captain Rogers’ tweet hilariously promises he will be the best big brother to the Rhodes-Stark-Potts baby in the history of big brothers. _

_Potts replied to Rogers’ tweet: “_Steve will definitely be the best big brother to our baby. He’s got plenty of practice as #BigBrotherOfAmerica.”

_[...]Fans flooded the video with congratulatory messages, and the hashtag #IronBaby has been trending for forty-eight hours so far, and promises to hold for at least another few days. _

—Clara Newitski, “_Pepper Potts confirms pregnancy_”, E!News Online, 30 November, 2015

_————————_

**TRAINING FIELDS, IDAVOLL, ASGARD **

**NOVEMBER 30TH, 2015 – 8:57AM (EARTH UCT+1)**

**BECCA**

She hit the ground with a dull thud, the fall knocking the wind clean from her lungs, leaving her gasping for breath for a long couple of minutes. She laughed breathlessly when Sif appeared in her field of vision, grinning fiercely as she offered Becca a hand to help her up. “You did well,” Sif told her approvingly. “Not bad for a human. You held out much longer than I expected.”

“I got good trainers,” Becca chuckled, allowing the other woman to help her up.

She and Natasha had been training together for years at this point, and Thor had made a point of it to ensure that all of the Avengers learned how to fight opponents physically stronger—had made it a point to make sure they knew how to _win_and_survive_a fight against an opponent physically much stronger than they were.

“You must’ve,” Sif remarked, patting Becca’s shoulder. “I see our prince’s influence in the way you dodge, sometimes.”

Becca smiled lightly. “He’s been diligent about teaching us to win against more powerful opponents.”

“I cannot have my favorite mortal friends perish before their time,” Thor boomed as he came up behind them, slinging an arm around her. “You least of all.” She leaned into him when he pressed a kiss to her temple, relaxing against him.

She’d not been alone with him since before the disastrous feast, had barely even been in the same room as him, and she’d missed it—she’d missed _him_. 

Sif only grinned in response before she curtsied—_exceptionally sarcastically, somehow—_and turned to beat up some hapless Aesir warriors. Becca smirked before she turned in Thor’s arms, slipping her arms around him and resting her head on his chest. She’d been up since dawn, had joined Sif in training not long after, and they’d been at it for hours.

She was well-trained, and in good condition, but she was only human.

She was _tired_, and Thor was comfortable and safe.

“Hello _Krúttið mitt_,” he rumbled, smoothing his hand down her back. “You’ve been busy.”

“Well, I had to keep myself busy with all kinds of official, diplomatic things,” she told him, seriously leaning back to raise an eyebrow at him. “My boyfriend seems to have other, more important matters on his mind than entertaining little old me.”

Thor frowned faux-seriously, shaking his head sadly. “Ah, your man must be a fool, to leave a woman beautiful and ferocious as you all by herself.” He grinned rakishly. “Anyone could pass by and just… _snap_you up.”

He punctuated the last word with a peck to her lips, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re an idiot,” she told him, but she didn’t resist when he cupped her face in his hands and leaned in to kiss her again.

“Perhaps, but you… You,” Thor muttered against her lips, her cheeks cupped in his large palms, “you are a _dangerous _woman.” He slipped one hand down, trailing down from the back of her neck to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him, ignoring the wolf-whistles that his friends sent their way. “And an irresistible one.”

Becca grinned against his lips and tugged on his hair a little. “And don’t you forget it.”

“I could never,” Thor chuckled.

“Odinson!” Fandral roared from somewhere on the training fields, effectively shattering their little peaceful bubble. “Stop canoodling with your mortal and come help me! I cannot lose to Sif _again_.”

Becca laughed when Sif cackled, and Thor shook his head in faux-dismay.

“Go,” she told him. “I think I’ll watch you, for a change. Go beat some unsuspecting morons for me.”

Thor chuckled and nodded. “Their blood shall be spilled in your honor then, _Krúttið mitt,_” hehummed. “And then I shall sweep you off your feet, and carry you to my chambers as my prize. My very own spoils of war. If you let me.” He hugged her close as she spoke, and she made note of the slightly possessive note to his words—it was so very rare that he admitted to wanting something different, or something potentially… more, she supposed, than what they already shared, that she cherished each time that he did.

“And after, I shall return you to your chambers,” Thor muttered, pressing a light kiss to her lips. “Once I have properly and thoroughly _ravished _you. I must confess I am _most_curious about your abode… I fear I’ll have to inspect whether it’s worthy of housing you, _elskan min._”

“Oh?” Becca raised an eyebrow. “And should you find it lacking?”

“Well,” Thor rumbled, drawing her close one more time to press a smacking kiss to her lips. “I suppose I’ll have no choice but to house you in my chambers. Nothing less than the absolute best will do.”

She giggled against his lips, allowing herself one more moment before she pushed him back, keeping him at arm’s length when he pouted. “Go beat up your friends, hotshot,” she told him with a warm smile. “I’ll be right here when you’re done, okay?”

“As you wish,” Thor hummed, lifting the hand she’d pressed to his chest up to his lips to press a soft kiss to her palm, before he turned and joined his friends.

She remained where she was for a few moments, grinning at Thor’s back when he collided with his friends. She watched as he threw a casual arm around Fandral’s shoulder, as she’d seen him do dozens of times with Steve, watched the way they all laughed and teased each other, and felt something loosen in her chest.

Even on his best days on Earth, there was a kind of heaviness to him that did not dissipate.

It had now.

Seeing him here on Asgard was… it was almost unreal. He was lighter here, flourishing in a way she’d never seen him flourish before—in a way he probably _couldn’t_flourish on Earth—and she _loved_seeing him happy and carefree like this.

She tried not to think about what that meant for their future, though.

She made her way to the plump, surprisingly comfortable benches to the side of the training fields, sitting down with a sigh of relief. Her body ached a little—in the good way, the way it ached when she’d done an intense workout and stuck with it until the end—and it felt good to let her muscles relax for a short time. She’d get up to do some more stretches soon, she promised herself, but she’d take a five-minute breather first.

She watched, as she’d told Thor she would, allowing herself to study the way he fought, now that he didn’t have to hold back. He was _ferocious_, fighting with a kind of elegant brutality that was both breathtaking and frightening—she _loved_him, more than anyone else she’d ever been with, but she forgot… she forgot how different they were sometimes.

It wasn’t a bad thing, certainly, but… it was a little scary.

“Milady?”

Abruptly startled from her thoughts, Becca looked up to find two of the—frankly absurd amount of—maids Odin had assigned to her, Unnr and Þrúðr, standing before her, both looking profoundly uncomfortable.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, squinting up at the two women.

Unnr shook her head shakily. “No, milady. We just—” she and Þrúðr exchanged a fleeting glance, “—we were wondering if you are ready to return to your chambers?”

Becca blinked. “Oh,” she said, looking between the two maids. “I… I was actually planning on staying for a while? Until Thor’s done, at least.” She didn’t miss the way the two exchanged another glance, and huffed impatiently. She’d liked Asgard fine, so far, and no one had been openly hostile—barring the woman she’d had to shoot for threatening Thor—but things were _different_, here.

The change from Earth to Asgard had thrown off her sense of time too.

It almost felt like jet lag, but worse too.

It wasn’t bad enough to incapacitate her, or make her want to stay in bed for a few days until her body had fully adjusted to the new time zone, but it was, at moments, so damned _uncomfortable_.

The minor headache she’d managed to ignore all day came roaring back, and she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.

“Ladies,” she sighed. “Would one of you please tell me what’s wrong?”

Both girls blinked at her, before Þrúðr spoke. “The training grounds are typically… they’re typically off limits for maidens, milady. I believe exceptions were made because the Prince demanded it be so, but usually…” She shook her head. “It’s not proper for unwed women to be here.”

Becca swallowed thickly and blinked again, trying to digest… _all_of that.

“Sif’s here,” she pointed out dumbly, gesturing towards where her boyfriend was doing his best to electrocute his friends while cackling gleefully.

She shook her head.

She loved that weirdo.

“Yes,” Unnr conceded. “But Lady Sif is… well… concessions were made. She is of highborn Aesir nobility. Before Prince Thor was betrothed to Prince Loki, there were many talks of an alliance forged by marriage with her and the Prince. I believe the King allowed certain… _liberties _when he abruptly broke off such negotiations with her family.”

“That’s bullshit,” Becca blurted loudly, wincing a little when both maids startled.

Before either of them could speak, though, someone interrupted from behind them. “Our traditions are bullshit to you now, Lady Rebecca? I’m sure my son will appreciate hearing you express such blatant disrespect towards our customs.”

She stiffened, turning slowly to face her boyfriend’s father—his _King_—for the first time.

She had been introduced to him at the feast, of course, but that had been with Thor holding her hand, and about two hundred people surrounding them. She was vaguely aware that her two maids dropped into a deep curtsy the moment they realized who had spoken, and that they all likely expected her to do the same, but… she remained sitting, only moving to incline her head towards the man lightly.

She was not, after all, one of his subjects.

She was a guest of his son, and he allowed her in his home, so she owed him at least a modicum of respect, but she did not owe him allegiance or deference.

“Your majesty,” she offered. “I meant not to offend. I’m sure you understand that not allowing certain… parts of your citizenry to learn how to defend themselves seems… _peculiar_to someone looking in from the outside.”

Odin smiled tightly. “I suppose from your point of view, it certainly must seem so. As long as you remember that you _are_, of course, on the _outside_, glancing in.”

Becca blinked at that, taken aback by the barely veiled insult.

“Ladies,” Odin addressed Unnr and Þrúðr, “I’m sure you have duties to attend to.”

The two scampered off before the King had even finished speaking, and Becca remained were she was, stiff and decidedly uncomfortable, as her boyfriend’s father took a seat on the stone bench beside her.

She was tempted to get up and rejoin Thor and his friends, to let this arrogant old man look the fool, but… She sighed and shook her head.

He was Thor’s _father_, after all.

Insufferable bastard or not, she’d promised herself and Thor she wouldn’t let him get the best of her.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” she offered again when he remained silent.

She wasn’t sure why the man was here, why he insisted on sitting with her when he clearly did _not_approve of her presence _at all_. She expected he would try to frighten her away from Thor, or that he would insist on tormenting her about all of Thor’s past lovers—Loki most of all.

“Worry not,” Odin finally said. “Human lives are but fleeting, I should not expect such underdeveloped minds to understand the delicate intricacies of our society.”

“Excuse me?” Becca spit, rearing back as though he’d slapped her. “Who _the hell_do you think you are?”

“I am Odin. King of Asgard.” He turned to look at her slowly, expression frustratingly inscrutable. “Protector of the Nine Realms.”

“Yeah,” Becca snorted. “Right. _Nine _Realms. Including Earth. We noticed the protection. Thanks, by the way, for keeping our planet from slowly heating up and destroying itself. Or for stepping in during any of the wars, famines, epidemics, or disasters over the past thousand years.” She shook her head again. “Thor tells me you haven’t even _looked_at Midgard in centuries. Don’t you _dare_call yourself our _protector_when we’ve _clearly_been doing fine on our own.”

Odin merely chuckled, and shook his head lightly. “You humans… threatened by suffering in threefold; by your own body, doomed to decay; and the world you so cherish, that rages against you with overwhelming and merciless destruction… and then from your relations with one another. I’ve lived thousands of years, child, but I’ve never met another race quite so talented at self-destruction.” He looked down at her and added, “Your kind’s never taken well to our interference. While I have several agents established on Midgard, keeping me apprised of… relevant information, we generally let you be.”

Becca snorted. “For a man who so readily proclaims our brains underdeveloped, you sure seem to like some of our people’s works.” When he raised an eyebrow, she shook her head, “I know Freud when I hear it, your Majesty, however much you try to dress it up with fancier words.”

Odin smirked. “Ah, you are clever, at least. I suppose my son has _some_taste after all.”

He shook his head again, as though he’d grown weary of the conversation, and said, “Surely you understand, though, that my son will not be able to keep you. Certain classes of beings cannot mix—certainly not for any significant length of time.”

“With all due respect,” she replied coldly. “I _hardly_think we’re a different class of being. Having access to seiðr readily doesn’t make you more evolved—even certain humans can harness its power, even if they are far rarer than they are to your people. Honestly though, I can’t say that I care overly much for what you think. I care what _Thor_thinks, and he’s made the way he feels about me _very_clear.”

Odin eyed her critically. “My son has had _many_lovers before. What makes you think you’re different than those he dallied with to distract himself from Loki’s disinterest?”

“I trust him when he tells me I am,” Becca told him coolly, crossing her arms over her chest, and though she was _fuming_, she carefully kept her expression blank, because she refused to let him see that he was getting to her—that his words rattled her even the littlest bit.

Odin laughed humorlessly. “I’m sure he told the others such things as well. Like he did Loki. Undying devotion did not last quite so long, did it?”

She knew what he was trying to do, and she was sure if he had done so earlier on in their relationship, she might actually have believed him. She might have let this old, sad, heartbroken man get under her skin and ruin what she and Thor had managed to build, but she refused to let him now.

They’d worked too hard to get where they were today.

“You know, I’m a little sad for you,” she said, slowly. “I’m sad you’re _so_twisted up inside that it makes you want to make Thor just as miserable as you are.” She looked him right in the eye and shook her head. “I love your son. I really, really love him, and I don’t care that I’m mortal and he’s not. I don’t care that you don’t like me. I care that I make him _happy_. I _know_I’m not Loki, and I don’t _need_him to love me like he loved Loki.”

She shrugged and offered a soft smile. “I just need him to love me like he loves _me_.”

Odin chuckled derisively. “Such sentimentality. I should expect no less from a human.”

“Father,” Thor cut in, and Becca barely resisted the urge to jump at his sudden appearance. Thor settled himself on the bench beside her, pressing closer than was, perhaps, strictly appropriate in front of his father, but she didn’t protest, allowing the press of his torso against her side to soothe her.

“My son,” Odin said calmly. “I sought only to properly meet your _frù.” _

“Do not talk of her as such,” Thor hissed viciously, drawing Becca against him firmly, surprising her with the venom in his tone. “She is more than that.”

“Is she?” Odin chuckled. “Is that what your _inn mátki munr_signified? Will you insist on making her your _kvàn_, my son? Call her your _brúðr_? Your _kona_?”

“If I do,” Thor spat, “It will be because she chooses to be.”

“And _she’s_right here,” Becca said, elbowing Thor in the gut when he squeezed her too tightly.

Thor looked at her, eyes wide and somewhat crazed, and Becca made the executive decision that remaining anywhere near Thor’s father wasn’t going to end well for either of them. “Thank you for coming all this way to meet me, your Majesty,” she offered, making sure to paste the most insincere smile she could manage on her face, “I think we both rather learned a lot today.”

She looked to Thor and squeezed her fingers around his. “We’re leaving. You promised me you’d show me more of Asgard.”

“So I did,” Thor nodded, keeping his blue eyes intent on hers. “There is much to see still.”

He stood smoothly, offering Becca a hand as soon as he was standing, and pulled her to her feet as well. “We will take our leave, Father,” he said. “It was a pleasure, as always.”

With that, Thor began moving, pulling her along with him.

She didn’t look back.

_————————_

_ [**PEPPER POTTS PREGNANCY ANNOUNCEMENT VIDEO!**] _

_There is a short moment before the image settles that shows a cozy, comfortable living room, before the image stills and zooms in on two men sitting at the kitchen island, heads bent together over a laptop. _

_“I don’t see the big deal, Capsicle. It’s not like this is news, even to you,” Tony Stark, looking almost like had only just rolled out of bed, shrugs, leaning back in his chair and sipping from the large mug in the shape of the Hulk’s fist. _

_“This isn’t a joking matter, Tony,” Steve Rogers, dressed in a tight white t-shirt and light sweatpants insists, gesturing towards the screen with a frown. “They moved to L.A. of all places. It’s a fucking outrage.” _

_“But it’s just baseball,” Stark mumbles, looking entirely nonplussed, before he offers, “Would it help if I bought them?” _

_Rogers blinks in astonishment before he groans and puts his head in his hands. “God, don’t tempt me, Tony. I don’t even need you to buy them for me—I could do it.” _

_Stark laughs and pats his hand on Rogers’ head while he shakes his head, using his free hand to draw the laptop closer to himself. “Shhh,” he tells Rogers, “let me live out my sugar daddy fantasies through you, Steven.” _

_Rogers looks appropriately scandalized while Stark cackles and types madly on the laptop. _

_Rhodes walks in, stops short, takes in the scene and shakes his head. “Whatever it is, Tony, no.” _

_Stark cackles louder. “Tony, yes!” Both Rogers and Rhodes sigh and share a commiserating eye roll before embarking on a journey to the refrigerator together. _

_The camera shakes a little when the person behind it moves, moving closer to the men in the kitchen. “Tony,” Pepper Potts says from behind the camera. “What have you done now?” _

_Stark looks up and smirks gleefully. “I’ve just bought our baby a baseball team.” _

_Rogers and Rhodes emerge from the depths of the fridge with identical, bewildered expressions, and Potts is quiet for a moment before she chokes, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know Steve was our baby now?”_

_Rogers, who has once again rounded the kitchen island to peer at the laptop, exclaims gleefully, “Neither did I, but you’re not getting rid of me now. You bought me the Dodgers?” _

_The camera shakes when Potts laughs. When it settles again, the three men are now crowded around the laptop, talking over one another excitedly. _

_“Well,” Potts interrupts, moving closer to the men. “I suppose we can keep you. As long as you learn to share with your future baby sibling.” _

_The camera swings up to catch a clear look of the three men’s astonished expressions before the image cuts out._

—Clara Newitski, “_Pepper Potts confirms pregnancy_” CONTINUED, E!News Online, 30 November, 2015

_————————_

**FENSALIR, VALASKIALF, ASGARD **

**NOVEMBER 30TH, 2015 – 12:09 PM (EARTH UCT+1)**

**THOR**

He was still fuming at the sheer _nerve_of his father, even hours later.

He had taken Rebecca to see the city and had shown her his favorite little corners. He had taken her to the tavern he had taken Steven to as well, had taken her to visit Aase and the market, and had watched her become struck with awe when he had taken her to the libraries that held the collected works of the Nine.

It had soothed his ire some, to see Asgard anew through her eyes.

Becca’s wonder at seeing his home was contagious, and Thor had relaxed some. He had known, of course, that his father would attempt to sow discord in his relationship, that he would seek out Rebecca and try to pinpoint her insecurities, that he would_use _those insecurities against her to _destroy_them, but he had not expected his father to be quite so open about his disapproval.

He’d certainly not expected him to corner Rebecca on the training fields. 

“Hey.”

Rebecca’s voice and her insistent tug on his hand drew him from his thoughts.

“Stop it,” she told him sternly when he looked at her. “Don’t let him win. I didn’t believe a word he said about us, Thor.” She turned towards him fully, and Thor relaxed a little when she tiptoed to slip her arms around him. “I love you. I trust you. You know that. I didn’t let him get under my skin.” She smiled and pecked his lips. “Don’t let him get under yours.”

“You’re right,” Thor sighed, leaning his forehead against hers. “You’re right. I’ll not let him spoil our time together any longer.”

“Good,” Becca grinned, leaning in to press another kiss to his lips. “Now show me these famed gardens of yours. Steve’s told me they’re absolutely gorgeous.” She stepped back a little and held out her hand to him, raising an expectant eyebrow.

Thor smiled and took her hand in his, leading Rebecca back towards the palace. He looked forward to showing her the Gardens; they’d proven a refuge for him and Loki many times when they’d been children, and he knew it’d brought Steven comfort too, when he had been here.

He hoped that Rebecca, too, would find some solace there.

He recognized he had not been able to be the host he wanted to be due to the absurd itinerary his father had foisted upon them when they arrived. Rebecca had spent far more time with his friends and the handmaidens—whom she had thankfully taken a liking to, even the maids she had initially bemoaned—than she had with him, due to his father’s insistence on adhering to tradition.

Tradition that he had never once been forced to adhere to before.

He’d originally planned for their first few days here to be far less strenuous and far more intimate.

Heimdall had warned him, when he began planning this trip, that journeying through the Bifrost would likely be exceptionally taxing for a human; even Steven, with an enhanced physiology that brought him closer to Aesir than to human, had felt the effects of it for a few hours.

He had not kept as close an eye on Becca as he had planned to, and he hoped she wasn’t feeling any ill effects of the travel any longer.

“Are you doing alright?” he asked concernedly, pulling her to a slow stop by lightly tugging on her hand. “I’ve not thought to ask how the Bifrost affected you, I apologize.” He imagined an inter-dimensional jet-lag on top of his father being… well, _himself _must’ve been exhausting.

“I’m fine,” Becca told him with a wry quirk of her lips. “Although, Asgardian cuisine doesn’t seem to agree with me yet.” She smiled a little. “I guess I just have to get used to it, but I’m not very hungry. I’m _so _bloated it’s not even funny anymore, but I’m not feeling sick or anything bad. Little tired, maybe, but... ” She squeezed her fingers around his. “Jet-lag hasn’t been so bad yet.”

“If you’re sure,” Thor said doubtfully, running his fingers across her cheek.

“Of course I am,” she shook her head. “Come on, show me the Gardens.”

He nodded silently and resumed their trek back to the palace; they would not have to enter the palace, thankfully, and risk running into his father or any of the servants. Loki had once shown him a secret path into their mother’s gardens, where they could slip past the guards unnoticed and hide in the lush, green garden for hours without being found.

He fully intended on doing so with Rebecca as well.

Spending their afternoon basking in sunlight, snacking on the morsels Thor had had asked the maids to prepare, and relaxing together, as they hadn’t been allowed since their arrival on Asgard, sounded like the best idea he’d had in months.

“So, your father had these gardens created for your mother?” Becca asked, slowing down a little so they walked side by side again, swinging their arms between them.

“Yes,” Thor nodded. “She missed the woods of her homeland and her father’s gardens, and my father sought to ensure her happiness by recreating them as precisely as he could.” He wondered where the man his mother had fallen in love with, once, had gone.

He wondered if love lost turned all hearts bitter, or if his father was an exception. Then again, his father had been a bitter man for longer than his mother had been gone.

He wondered, briefly, if he would lose himself to bitterness and anger too, should he lose Rebecca as well.

Losing Loki and his mother had very well had the potential to turn his heart to stone, and he believed it may have, had he not had his mortal friends to lean on in his time of need. The Warriors Three and Lady Sif were worthy friends indeed, but they had not understood the depth of his despair following Loki’s death. It might have been more forgivable if they had not so clearly mourned the loss of his mother while barely paying lip service to Loki’s memory, and only then on Thor’s behalf.

Having Becca and Steven and the other Avengers to turn to had saved him, in a way.

“That’s sweet, I guess,” Becca nodded, drawing him from his thoughts.

He looked to her and smiled lightly, squeezing his fingers around hers. “I suppose it was, at the time,” he shrugged. They’d reached the palace walls by now, and Thor slowed their pace down to a casual stroll, gently nudging Becca’s attention towards the walls that surrounded the palace.

“Do you see the etchings that cover the walls?” he asked, slowing to a stop so Becca could reach out to touch her fingertips to the faint lines.

“What are they?” she asked, looking back at him quizzically.

“Loki insisted they are the remnants of the history of our people that our forefathers would rather have seen forgotten. If you look closely, you can almost see the figures that tell our tales.”

Becca was silent, and Thor allowed himself to remember the awe that had filled him the first time he had seen the lines on the walls form a recognizable pattern. “It’s beautiful,” Becca said quietly, pulling her hand away from the wall and turning back to him.

“It’s also our way into the gardens,” Thor confided in her, pressing close to her and taking her hand in his. He guided her hand up, palm up, to the wall, letting it hover above the stones for a long moment.

“Say the words with me,” he whispered. _“__Opnað grindrinn._”

_“Opnað grindrinn_,” Becca repeated dutifully, and Thor relished in how easily her lips formed around the still largely unfamiliar words—she had insisted on beginning to learn his native tongue as soon as their relationship became more serious—and smiled when she gasped delightedly when the solid wall that stood before them shimmered and then disappeared, revealing a veritable oasis of greenery and flowers.

“Oh wow,” Becca breathed, and Thor couldn’t help but smile. It _was _an awe-inspiring sight, even for him. “Is it a gate?” she asked as she walked further into the gardens, “or is it an illusion?”

Thor hummed and considered his words before he spoke, watching as Becca moved deeper into the gardens, fingers idly trailing past flowers and deep green leaves. “It is somewhat of both,” he finally said, allowing his gaze to stray to the bright red flower that bloomed only through his mother’s lingering seiðr. “Loki wove the spell centuries ago, weaving it so only those we chose to share it with would be able to enter, and only accompanied by one of us. It was an ideal hideout.”

He expected Becca to laugh at that, to tease him about hiding out in the secluded gardens with Loki so they could make out like the careless, lovestruck boys they had been at the time, but she remained quiet.

He looked up to find her standing only a few feet away, rather a lot paler than she had been minutes ago.

“Becca?” he asked. “Are you alright?”

“I–” She shook her head and swayed where she stood. Thor moved before he had even consciously thought of doing so, crossing the distance between them in a few strides, grasping her forearms tightly. “I’m so _hot.” _

Now that he stood so much closer, he could see sweat beading on her forehead, and see just how alarmingly pale she’d suddenly become. “Becca,what’s going on?” he demanded urgently, concern flooding his entire being when she didn’t respond to his query immediately, eyes going a little unfocused before she muttered,

“I need to sit, I’m—l’m going to be sick.”

“Of course,” Thor floundered, trying to figure out how to help her sit without having her keel over, when her eyes rolled back in her head and she went limp in his grasp.

“Becca!” he shouted in shock, barely moving fast enough to catch her as she crumpled, knees buckling as he sank down to the ground, her limp form cradled in his arms. She didn’t respond, nor did she wake when he patted her cheek, despite him using more strength than he usually did with her.

No reaction, but at the very least she was still breathing, and her pulse sounded strong and steady to his enhanced ears.

He looked up desperately, shaking himself forcefully. “Alright,” he nodded to himself, lifting her up in his arms and making for the palace.

Eir would know what to do. 

_————————_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Becca trains with Sif and has a rather fraught interaction with Odin, before Thor shows her around in Asgard and then takes her to his mother's Gardens, where Becca becomes suddenly unwell, and Thor takes her back to the palace. 
> 
> See you next time, lovelies!
> 
> As always, lots of thanks to Juulna for kicking my ass and beta'ing the hell out of this :D


	7. The One In Asgard (3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there lovelies!
> 
> Again, for those who prefer to skip Becca and Thor's part in this story, please skip to the end notes where the chapter will be summarised. 
> 
> I promise the next work will focus more on Steve again!
> 
> As always, much love to my darling beta Juulna, without whom I'd be hopeless and helpless. 
> 
> Love, Annaelle

# Chapter Seven

**THRUDHEIM, VALASKIALF, ASGARD**

**NOVEMBER 30TH, 2015 – 1:45 PM (EARTH UCT+1)**

**BECCA**

Becca... honestly wasn’t sure what’d happened after Thor had shown her the secret entrance to the gardens. One minute, she’d been in awe of the amount of greenery hidden away in the middle of the city, hidden by tall, insurmountable palace walls, trailing her fingers past the most colorful flowers she’d ever seen, and the next she had been hit by a cloyingly sweet scent that turned her stomach, and the world had gone black.

She’d woken up in Thor’s arms, halfway to the medical wing of the palace, and had begged him to take her back to her rooms instead, because she... she felt _fine_now.

A little dizzy, yes, and still a little nauseated, but _fine_.

They’d compromised, and she’d let him carry her to his chambers instead.

“Thor,” she sighed impatiently, sitting up amidst the sheets and pillows on Thor’s bed. “I promise I’m fine now. It must’ve been the heat and the jet lag. Heimdall said it would take time for my body to recover. I haven’t really eaten a lot yet either. I don’t _need_to see a healer; we already know what it is.”

Thor, infuriatingly, just shook his head before he sat beside her on the bed. “_Krúttið mitt_,” he rumbled softly, tracking his fingers across her cheek gently. “Indulge me then. Seeing you collapse was…” He shook his head and looked down. “I would welcome the reassurance.”

He looked up again, and _damn him_, because she didn’t know how to say no to him when he was being like this. She sighed and looked down, twisting the soft fabric of Thor’s covers between her fingers a little. She understood why he was worried; she’d scared herself for a moment too, when Thor had taken her to his mother’s gardens, and the world had gone dark before she’d even taken a proper look.

“Fine,” she conceded, tipping forward so she was leaning up against his side. “I’ll see your healer.”

Thor smiled brilliantly at her and pressed a kiss to her cheek before he stood and walked to the door. “Fetch Lady Eir,” he told the man who stood guard just outside. “We have need of her expertise.”

The guard nodded sharply and disappeared from her view, and Becca sighed, letting herself fall back into the pile of pillows Thor had stuffed the bed with. The Asgardian prince’s bed was _ridiculously _comfortable. When she managed to resurface from her mountain of fluff, it was to find said Asgardian prince smiling at her, still standing by the door as though he’d decided he was now her sentry.

He was worried, she could tell, far more than he wanted her to know, and she _hated_that he was.

“Hey,” she smiled lightly, holding out a hand to him. “Come here.”

Her heart clenched when he still didn’t say anything, although he did move towards her as she directed, sitting down heavily beside her. “You know,” she drawled, curling his ridiculously soft hair around her fingers, “this is _not_what I imagined being in your room for the first time would be like.”

His head snapped up, and she barely refrained from rolling her eyes—_of course _a thinly veiled innuendo would be what got his attention—and he grinned toothily, shaking off the worried expression more easily than she had anticipated, his hand slipping up to rest on her right hip.

“Well, by all means, _Krúttið mitt_,” he hummed. “Feel free to show me what you had in mind.”

“I don’t know,” she mused, grinning innocently at him when he pouted. “You were right, maybe I _am_too exhausted from the journey here, I don’t think I could withstand such strenuo—”

She squealed a little in surprise when he lunged for her, dragging her onto his lap and into a hungry kiss, and she couldn’t help but _laugh_, because he was _so_easy to rile up, and they both knew it.

“You tease, _Krúttið mitt_,” he growled against her lips, clutching at her with one hand and tangling his fingers in her hair with the other, angling her head so he could reduce her to a melted puddle of affectionate goo with a single kiss. Even after three-and-a-half years, she was still not quite used to the way he could completely _ruin_her with nothing more than a kiss, the way he _knew_just where and how to touch her—

She kissed him back as frantically as he kissed her, pressing against him harder, slipping her arms around his neck to get _closer_.

Time had a habit of going a little funny when she was with Thor, when they got caught up in each other, and she couldn’t say how long they stayed like that, kissing and touching, until she became abruptly aware that they’d shifted, at some point, and she was lying back, with Thor propped up between her thighs. Her breath was _heaving_, and if it were not for Thor looking similarly affected, she’d feel a little embarrassed for how much just kissing him turned her on.

It took her another few moments to realize his shirt had mysteriously disappeared, and the long tunic he had helped her into when they got here was pooled around her waist, shoved up as far as it could comfortably go, Thor’s fingers splayed against her lower belly.

When did he manage that?

Thor hummed happily and leaned down to rub his nose against hers affectionately, and her heart _clenched_, because she really fucking loved this dumbass.

“I must say,” Thor said with a grin, “I do enjoy the way your mind works.”

Becca grinned, leaning up to press a smacking kiss to his lips before falling back against the soft pillows. Thor only smiled, wiggling down her body—pulling her tunic back down too—until he could rest his head on her chest. Becca dug her fingers into his messy hair, grinning triumphantly when he groaned and went boneless on top of her, pressing back into the touch greedily.

She daydreamed a little while Thor snoozed, taking in the rest of his chambers with great curiosity.

They’d been here for a few days already, but it really _had_been the first time they’d managed to get enough time alone for Thor to take her back to his own room. She’d been given a room on the other side of the palace, in the late Queen’s wing, and Becca suspected there was nothing accidental about the amount of distance and lack of privacy they’d experienced so far.

Odin had made it quite clear, from day one, that he did not approve of her.

He was, so far, the only one who’d been blatant about his disapproval though, and she was a little grateful for that. She’d _expected_him to treat her like she was inferior because Thor had warned her that he would, that he was caught up in his prejudiced opinions and that he wasn’t likely to change his mind anytime soon, regardless of how or how much Thor loved her.

It _sucked_, but at least she hadn’t been glared out of the room or treated with anything less than utmost respect by anyone else.

The maids had been incredibly kind, and aided her with the gowns she was required to wear to the fancy shindig that had been thrown for Thor’s return. They’d braided her hair and told her of all of the unspoken rules she needed to know lest she unintentionally issue a deadly insult to a member of the high nobility—which would, in all likeliness, end in Thor having to beat some poor sod into the ground to restore their battered pride. Becca liked them that much more when they proved not to be malicious gossips—towards her or anyone else, that she could tell.

“Are we not supposed to be somewhere?” she asked after they’d both been quiet for a while, softly tugging on his hair to get him to look up at her. “Are we gonna get in trouble for missing it?”

He propped his head up on his hand and dimpled up at her, eyes sparkling prettily. “Of course not, _Krúttið mitt. _I asked one of your handmaidens to inform Father of our absence. Whatever committee he had planned and whatever banquet he wished for us to attend will keep. Fret not.”

“If you’re sure,” Becca said doubtfully, although she did not resist when Thor crawled back up to press a kiss to her lips, lazily winding her arms around his shoulders as they kissed. “You’re heavy,” she groaned a little, eventually, because she _loved_being so surrounded by him, but she _hated_how heavy the bulk of his muscled body was after a while.

Thor, quite used to her complaints about it, she imagined, took her comment in stride and rolled them both onto their sides, slipping his hand down from her hip to her knee so he could drag her leg further up his hip, pressing them fully together. She hummed happily against his lips, leaning in to kiss him again—a soft, sleepy kiss with little urgency that made her eyelids flutter shut.

His tongue moved languidly against hers and she pushed back against the hand that was lazily stroking up and down her back, eager for more _touch_.

She’d just reached up, tangling her fingers in his gloriously messy hair, when someone knocked loudly on the door, effectively shattering the hazy illusion of isolation that they had perfected in the past half hour or so. She whined when Thor broke the kiss, uttering a few rather creative swear words as he moved off the bed and retrieved his discarded clothing before opening the door.

Becca settled back against the pillows, discreetly attempting to arrange the state of her tunic and hair to something that didn’t scream “your crown prince was five seconds away from screwing the living daylights out of me”, and watched as Thor greeted a woman with dark, curled hair that was coiled up into two braided buns, wearing what could only be Asgard’s version of a nurse’s scrubs.

“Milord,” she nodded towards Thor. “You requested my presence?”

“Yes,” Thor said eagerly, ushering her inside and shutting the door. “I believe you have not yet met my lady Rebecca?” Becca wrinkled her nose and sat up to greet the woman, making to get out of the bed, but she was barely able to move at all before both Asgardians protested loudly, shooing her back to her pile of pillows.

“I’ve not had the pleasure,” Lady Eir said, offering Becca a hand to shake. “I am Lady Eir, King Odin’s court healer. I see she is no different than your Captain though.” She added as she looked over her shoulder at Thor. “Eager to ignore the boundaries and limitations of their own bodies. Is this a Midgardian trait?”

“Hey,” Becca protested, just as Thor said, “It certainly seems to be.”

Eir simply chuckled and shook her head. “Tell me, milady. What is it that I can do for you?”

Becca pouted at Thor, crossing her arms over her chest before she turned to Lady Eir. “I passed out, earlier. Thor took me to the gardens and—I don’t know, everything just went dark. I know Heimdall said that the Bifrost can take a toll on humans; I’m sure it’s just that.”

“I shall be pleased if I can confirm that,” Eir tutted as she lifted Becca’s wrist, pressing her soft, cool fingers against her pulse point for a moment before she gently guided Becca’s chin up. Becca looked at Thor, a little reassured to find him smiling, standing just behind Lady Eir, and relaxed a little.

The woman’s movements were precise and sure, and Becca had to admit she felt a little more comfortable knowing that _if _something was wrong, Eir would be able to tell her.

Not that anything _was_wrong—she was _fine_.

“Milady,” Eir’s soft inquiry roused her from her thoughts, and she realized Eir’s hands were... _glowing_? She tensed up without meaning to, leaning away from Eir instinctively.

Magic.

What the shit.

Thor seemed to sense her bewilderment and chuckled before he moved to sit beside her on the bed. “Perhaps it’ll be easier if you explain what you are doing,” he told Eir calmly, slipping his arm around Becca and tugging her back against his chest.

Becca relaxed a little, leaning back against him.

“I apologize,” Eir nodded. “I am reading the... _energies_of your body. When they are out of balance, I will be able to see it more easily. Once I know where the imbalance is located, I will be able to use the Soul Forge to see exactly what is wrong.”

Becca nodded. “I don’t feel so bad now, though. Will you be able to see it if it’s not—if—”

Eir smiled kindly. “Even if it is simply your body adjusting to your new environment, I will be able to see it.” She moved her hands across Becca’s torso as she asked, “What symptoms did you experience before you lost consciousness?”

“I was... I was too hot, and then I was _so _nauseated, I—”

“Apologies, but...” Eir interrupted, forehead wrinkling into a confused frown. Becca looked down, finding the woman’s hands hovering over her midsection. Eir looked up at them and delicately offered, “My Prince, perhaps you should leave the room for a moment.”

“What?” Becca blurted, tightening her fingers on Thor’s arm. “No, he’s not–I don’t want him to go.”

Thor rumbled in agreement behind her.

Eir frowned. “I fear I will need to ask you very personal questions, milady. You may not be comfortable answering everything in front of—”

“I don’t have anything to hide from him,” Becca said insistently, pressing back into Thor’s arms.

Eir looked up, probably seeking assistance from Thor, but her boyfriend just tugged her closer. “I will not leave unless she tells me to, Lady Eir.” Becca hadn’t honestly expected him to agree with Eir, but she couldn’t help the breath of relief that fell from her lips.

Eir remained silent for a moment before she nodded tersely. “Very well. When did you last experience your monthly bleeds, milady?”

A bit puzzled by the unexpected question, Becca bit her lip as she tried to recall. “A few weeks ago. Two, maybe three weeks,” she replied slowly, trying to count back far enough, because she’d always been a bit irregular, so she didn’t usually keep track. “It was before we came back to New York.”

Eir nodded, her face scrunched up as she pressed her fingers directly to Becca’s abdomen.

“When was the last time you lay with another?” Eir asked next, not raising her gaze from where her hands were now fully pressed against Becca’s stomach. “Someone other than Prince Thor.”

Becca bristled at the implication, but refrained from kicking at the woman when Thor put a calming hand on her arm. “I mean,” she looked at Thor and shrugged when he frowned in contemplation. It wasn’t like they hadn’t experimented a little over the years, but it _had_been some time since they’d really tried to bring anyone else in. “It’s been a while. A year at least, with…” She abruptly clicked her mouth shut and glanced towards Eir, cheeks flaming with a heated blush. “Well, that really doesn’t matter. Why is that important, though?”

Eir harrumphed and looked up sternly. “Milady, I need you to be entirely honest. I understand there are things you may not have shared with Prince Thor, but—”

“Lady Eir,” Thor interrupted, and Becca’s heart pounded wildly in her chest, nausea abruptly rearing back up. She swallowed thickly against the wave of nausea that threatened to overwhelm her, and pressed as far back into Thor’s arms as she could, as though she could hide from the implication in Eir’s unspoken words in his embrace.

“I do not appreciate your tone,” Thor boomed unhappily, “nor your implication. Rebecca’s fidelity to me is _not_in question here.”

Lady Eir shook her head sternly. “My Prince, I ask these things only because I must. I must eliminate all other options before I make a diagnosis that is… otherwise impossible.” She glanced between Becca and Thor and sighed. “I do not mean to accuse you of anything, child, only to see the situation in full; if I am to understand what is happening, I must know of all the variables.”

Becca shivered, stomach twisting into knots as she considered the questions the woman had asked so far, and the only logical conclusion it brought. “It’s not possible,” she breathed, looking down to where Thor had an arm wrapped around her, where Eir’s hands had hovered before she took them away.

Thor’s entire body stiffened behind her, and she looked up at Eir with tears burning in her eyes.

“It can’t—it _has_to be something else,” she pleaded, ignoring the small voice in the back of her head that insisted that she already knew that wasn’t true, that she’d _known_something was off beforehand; that she’d just ignored it, hadn’t wanted to deal with the reality of it.

Eir looked at her with something akin to pity in her eyes.

“Have you lain with another than our prince?” she asked again, and this time Becca just shook her head mutely. She wasn’t sure what there was to say anyway—she wasn’t sure what to _think_.

Eir nodded curtly and addressed Thor. “Did you use the anti-conception spells your late brother-betrothed weaved for you?”

Thor hummed thoughtfully. “Not… always,” he finally admitted, and Becca closed her eyes in exasperation. It wasn’t like they never used protection, or that they had unsafe sex frequently, but… they were monogamous—mostly—and since she’d thought he wouldn’t be able to get her pregnant anyway, they _had_sometimes forgone protection—Asgardian or otherwise—entirely.

It wasn’t supposed to _matter_.

“Look,” she blurted. “It doesn’t matter. He’s Asgardian, a _god_, literally. I’m just human. We _can’t_get pregnant, so…” She shrugged helplessly. “It’s not like _any of this_is possible.”

Eir didn’t speak for a long, tense moment, and Becca felt Thor tense a little behind her too, before the other woman shook her head and sighed. “In other circumstances, I would be inclined to agree, milady, but…” She looked between them again. “I’ve found that many of the established rules don’t apply when it comes to gods of fertility.”

Becca’s stomach sank.

“Are you certain?” Thor whispered hoarsely behind her.

Eir nodded sympathetically. “If it were any other, I would never have doubted at all.”

Becca sobbed drily, pressing her hands to her mouth as she tried to… tried to wrap her head around what it _meant_. She barely even heard Thor thank Eir and send her away, staring down at the flat planes of her stomach, trying to imagine it bigger, rounder, her skin stretched to accommodate Thor’s… Thor’s_child_.

Christ.

“Rebecca,” Thor said softly, carefully sliding his hand down her arm. “_Krúttið mitt_, please.”

“No!” she cried, slapping his hands away, his touch suddenly _unbearable_on her skin. “No, Thor, don’t _do _that! I’m not—you can’t—I don’t need you to treat me like you would’ve treated Loki, Thor! I’m _not_Loki! I didn’t want this, I don’t know what—I’m _scared_, Thor.”

“I know that,” Thor replied, and he was so _calm _and she couldn’t stand how _calm _he was, how _easy _this seemed to be for him while she felt she was on the verge of losing her goddamned _mind. “_Gods, Rebecca,” he continued, throwing his hands up exasperatedly. “This is new to me as well, _Krúttið mitt_. I’m frightened of what it means too!”

“At least you _wanted_this,” she hissed, poking at his chest. “Thor, I’ve _never_wanted children before, I don’t—at least you wanted this, at some point.”

“Of course I did!” Thor exclaimed. “I did, and I will not apologize for wanting it! But _Norns_, Rebecca, believe me, this is not how I imagined it happening either. I want children, just not…” He gestured grandly towards her and the bed before stopping short.

Becca choked, feeling almost like he’d punched her square in the solar plexus. “Just not with me.”

Thor shook his head immediately. “That’s not what I meant,” he insisted, rushing towards her with trembling hands. “Rebecca, that’s _not_what I meant.”

“But it’s what you said,” she whispered, and she couldn’t… she couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks. She didn’t fight him when he reached out for her, although a part of her wanted to—the same part that wanted to _scream_about the unfairness of it all—and sank into his arms regardless, because she _knew_, she _had to believe_that he hadn’t meant that he didn’t want this with her.

“I’m sorry,” Thor whispered against the top of her head. “I’m so sorry, _Krúttið mitt_. I didn’t mean for it to sound as though I would’ve wanted this with another, but not you. You know that is not true.”

Becca nodded shakily against his chest.

He pressed a firm kiss to the top of her head and held her, and she nearly felt like he was the only thing holding her together.

Her stomach churned uncomfortably, and she fought back a wave of nausea.

“We’ll figure this out,” he promised. “We’ll be alright.”

Becca almost believed him.

_Almost_.

_————————_

**THRONE ROOM, VALASKIALF, ASGARD **

**DECEMBER 7th, 2015 – 4:16 PM (EARTH UCT+1)**

**THOR**

Thor was… Thor was tired.

He had spent the better part of the past week in his chambers with Rebecca, hiding from Asgard and the world, allowing Becca to try to come to terms with… with the pregnancy.

He shook his head a little and sighed.

He did not blame her for feeling entirely overwhelmed. He knew she had reservations about being a parent, and with the news being as unexpected as it had been… he supposed he was lucky she had reacted as relatively calmly as she had.

He was not certain he would have, in her shoes.

That was not to say there had not been the occasional fit of crying, or that they had not spent quite a bit of the past few days arguing like they never had before. He tried not to let it bother him; he knew Becca well enough to know she was picking fights with him because she was afraid and felt like she had no control over her life anymore—arguing with him was her way of taking back control, and he did not begrudge her that.

He only hoped that having to leave her—not alone, because he was no fool; she didn’t want to be alone right now, no matter how she protested and screamed at him to leave her—to answer his father’s summons wouldn’t undermine the little progress they’d begun to make.

He’d managed to field off his father for five days, but in the end, he still stood Thor’s King. There were only so many commands Thor could ignore before his father would send in the _Einherjar_to drag him to the throne room to face him.

Thor had made the executive decision to _walk_rather than be dragged.

Becca’s favorite handmaidens were with her, and would accompany her to Lady Eir’s medical suites, where they would use the Soul Forge to ensure the child—_their child, Norns_, he could still not quite believe it—was healthy. For now.

Thor dared not think of the future yet.

Rebecca was not certain she wanted a child at all, and Thor—much as he might _want_children, one day—was in no position to care for one by himself. He would also not demand that Becca carry his child simply because he wanted it; it was, after all, her body, and he had no right to demand that she go through a pregnancy that may do intense, irreversible damage to her body for his sake.

No matter what he wanted—and he had staunchly avoided thinking about _what_, exactly, he wanted while Becca tried to reorient her view on their future—he would not ask such a thing from her.

“Well, boy,” his father boomed from inside the throne room, snapping him from his thoughts abruptly. “Do not confuse my authority with my patience. My patience is _not_limitless.”

Thor shook his head—his father had taken to reminding him of his authority and might more and more often since his mother had passed—and threw open the doors, striding into the room to face his father with far more bravura than he really felt.

His father was seated on the throne, Gungnir in hand, looking every inch of the King he was.

Very well, then.

Thor steeled himself. His father only ever bothered with these theatrics when he felt slighted. Thor hardly believed the banquets and so-called trade negotiations he and Becca had missed were of any consequence, but it seemed his father was determined to make them into something of importance.

“Are my commands of so little note to you now,” Odin began sternly, “that you ignore them completely?”

“No, father,” Thor shook his head, and then inclined his head towards the man. “I apologize for the engagements we missed. As I had a runner inform you, Rebecca fell ill rather abruptly, and I could not bear to part from her side.”

“She is mortal,” Odin snorted dismissively. “Illness is their defining trait.”

Thor seethed, fingers sparking with barely-controlled lightning, but he resolved to stay calm, and inhaled deeply. “I stayed with her because I could help her. Being on Asgard was a fortunate thing—Lady Eir was able to help her immediately.”

“She does not belong here,” Odin hissed. “As I’ve told you many times. She does not belong in Asgard any more than a goat does at a banquet table.”

“And I’ve told you not to speak of her as such,” Thor spat. “She is my partner, father, and I expect her to remain so for quite a bit longer. It is high time you accepted her.” He had long since ceased his attempt to control the lightning that crackled at his fingertips—the only outward concession to his temper that he would allow. “I apologize for shirking my duties. Rest assured I would not have done if I did not think it important to stay with Rebecca.”

“More important than your duties to Asgard?” Odin boomed angrily. “Perhaps, instead of banishing you to Midgard, I should ground you on Asgard. Perhaps that would suffice to remind you of your commitment to the people of _Asgard_rather than those Midgardians you are so enthused about.”

“Father,” he started with a sigh, but Odin continued relentlessly.

“Human lives are _fleeting_, son. They are nothing.” Odin set Gungnir down with a heavy clap and stood from his throne, approaching Thor with heavy steps that echoed in the empty throne hall. “You would be much better served by what lies in front of you. Lady Sif has been fond of you for many years, and she would be_much _better suited for life as your queen than your little mortal. And if not her, then any other maiden from here to Vanaheim.”

Thor closed his eyes and sighed in exasperation. “I do not seek a _brúðr_, father, and if I did, I would wholeheartedly choose Rebecca.”

“Yes,” Odin rumbled unhappily. “Dancing the_inn matki munr_with her in front of the whole of the Nine made that clear. You _humiliated_the might of Asgard, Thor, pretending your barren little human could _ever_be an appropriate _brúðr_.”

“She’s not _barren_, father,” Thor spat, lightning sparking from his clenched fists to the floor and back. “We’re perfectly capable of conceiving.”

Odin stopped short and tilted his head, and Thor _cursed_his own temper. He had not planned to reveal Rebecca’s pregnancy to his father yet—if at all. He was loath to think what his father should do if the pregnancy displeased him, what he could force them into—

Not that Thor would _let_him.

He remained silent and watched his father wearily. Perhaps his father wouldn’t realize what he’d inadvertently revealed, wouldn’t keep asking—

“Then went reigns all to their ruling seats, the high-holy gods held council; who had ear with heritage mixed, great Ódin's child?” Odin muttered, barely audible, forehead creasing into a mighty frown as he paced. “Thorr only rise, in stifling mode, rarely he sits with words spoken like this; of broken oaths and promise. He stood grown up, high on the field, treasure unique preserved in mighty pledges between them made.”

“Father?” Thor questioned uncertainly. There was a manic gleam to his father’s eye now, one that rarely predicted much good.

“Prophecy,” his father muttered darkly. “Your little human was foretold by prophecy. _The _prophecy. Your child is very nearly named in _Völuspá. _Your _offspring_.” He looked up at Thor and grinned madly. “Perhaps she will be of use to us after all—if she brings us the _makt _the prophecy foretells. We will rule _all_realms, my son, together. I will even allow you to keep her.”

“Father,” Thor shook his head, hands trembling and rage long-forgotten as he approached his father. “The words you speak hold only madness. Rebecca is not a plaything, and our child will not be a tool for you to utilize as you choose.”

Odin looked up sharply, and Thor startled back a step.

“Go,” Odin spat. “Care for your little mortal. We will have words later.”

“Bu—”

“_Go_!” Odin roared, _seiðr _bleeding from his entire body, from his whitened hair to his very pores, causing the very foundations of the palace to tremble. Thor stumbled back, out of the throne hall and into the hallway, the doors slamming shut in front of him. 

He stared at the gilded doors.

“What?” he ended up saying to no one in particular, because he was, in fact, alone in the long hallway.

He remained where he was for a few long moments, staring at the door as he tried to figure out what it was that had set his father off, before he shook his head and resolved to speak to Heimdall about the matter. The gatekeeper was a dear friend, and often the most well-informed person on Asgard.

He’d return to his chambers and see to Rebecca.

She had not been eating well these past few days, and though they had only been on Asgard for a week, and though it was still early yet in her pregnancy, it concerned him how slim she still was—she was slimmer, he was certain, than she had been in all the time he had known her. There were so many unknowns to this pregnancy that it hurt his brain to try to think of them all.

He was fortunate and pleased that he had Lady Eir, who had made it her new life’s mission to ensure Becca’s good health—she had recommended fruits and lighter broths and, while Becca was still not eating much, she was eating _some_.

“…true then? The maids… You’re with child?”

He stopped in his tracks, recognizing Sif’s voice easily, and glanced around the corner to gaze at his friend. Rebecca stood in front of Sif, back turned to him, her dark hair tumbling loose and tangled down her back, and her two handmaidens standing to the side by the wall, observing the interaction between the two women silently.

Thor… well, he couldn’t say what prompted him to remain where he was, half-hidden behind the corner, but he did, and found himself observing the interaction between two of his dearest female friends—for Rebecca, while also his lover, was certainly one of his closest friends—curiously.

“Apparently,” Rebecca confirmed quietly, and he could see her moving her hand, likely lightly touching her stomach, as she had more than a few times these past few days when she talked of the baby.

When she acknowledged it at all, that is.

He looked up sharply when he heard Sif snort derisively, his eyes widening in disbelief when he saw her expression contorted into something… something _ugly_.

“That is _wonderful_. Our wonderful prince, once again proving he would rather bed and breed _lesser beings_than marry an Aesir as he should. He is _our _Prince, after all.” She looked at Becca with the ugliest, most hateful expression he had ever seen on her face—even more hateful than the expression she’d worn when Loki had cut off her long, golden hair and replaced it with raven locks instead—and sneered, “I hope you don’t think this means he’ll keep you.”

Thor stood frozen, baffled by the poisoned words that had fallen from his best friend’s lips.

“I’m not,” Becca stuttered, probably equally dumbstruck, “I—I didn’t—”

“That’s enough,” Thor boomed; finding his voice and his legs alongside his temper. He moved out from behind the corner, striding up to the two women and resting his hand soothingly on the small of Becca’s back. “Sif, that’s_quite_enough, and far from appropriat—”

“No,” Sif blurted, shaking her head, forehead creasing into a frown. “No, you’re right, I don’t know… I don’t know where that came from.” She turned back towards Becca, reaching out towards her, “Rebecca, I’m sorry, I don’t—I don’t know what came over me, it’s just—”

Becca shook her head and turned away from her, into Thor’s arms. “I’m gonna be sick,” she told him, shaking as her skin paled rapidly.

He nodded urgently and guided her towards the nearest window, where he unceremoniously dumped a handful of plants on the floor before handing Becca the now-empty basin just in time for her to dry-heave into it, moaning miserably when it let up.

Thor frowned, slowly rubbing one hand over her back while using the other to gather her hair back.

“Shh,” he hummed when she leaned back long handfuls of minutes later, shakily wiping her mouth on her sleeve as one of the maids took the basin from her. “It’s alright, _Krúttið mitt_. You’ll be alright.”

“I wanna go home,” Becca moaned miserably, turning in his arms to hide her face against his shoulder. “Please let me go home. I want my grandmother and Steve, and Tony and Pepper and Rhodey, and I don’t wanna be _here_.” She looked up at him, eyes filled with tears and whispered, “I can’t—I can’t do this here, I can’t _think_here. I need to go home.”

Thor looked at her for a long moment before he sighed.

He understood what she meant; the pregnancy was something entirely unexpected, and she probably needed something—someone—to hold onto while she tried to figure out what to do next.

He was not hurt that it was not enough that he was here.

In situations like these, one needed to rely on family—and Becca’s family was on Midgard.

“Alright,” he nodded, cupping her face between his hands and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Let’s go pack your things.”

——————————

**Personal floor Of Steve Rogers, Becca Barnes and Thor, Avengers Tower, Manhattan, New York, U.S.A. **

**December 2nd, 2015 – 9:19 PM **

**Steve**

“Captain?”

Steve startled at the interruption, looking away from the screen that was playing a compilation of all the footage of him and the Howlies during the war. “Yes, J.A.R.V.I.S.?” he answered, pressing pause on the movie and looking up at the ceiling.

“I apologize for the interruption,” J.A.R.V.I.S. said quietly. “The Bifrost has opened on the roof. I thought it might be wise to welcome our visitors.”

Steve blinked in confusion. Becca and Thor had only been gone for a few days; they weren’t meant to be back for another three weeks _at least_. It’d barely been a full week on Asgard, if his math was correct, and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of an unannounced Aesir visitor.

“Yeah,” Steve nodded a bit dumbly, though his mind was rapidly starting to clear and focus. “Okay.”

He got to his feet and headed towards the elevator, rubbing his hands tiredly over his eyes. It’d been a long day: he and Tony had spent most of the day tracking down stray A.I.M. scientists and pissing off neo-Nazis on the internet, and while it had decidedly been _fun_, it’d also been exhausting.

The elevator ride up to the roof only took a few seconds, thankfully, and before he knew it, the doors opened onto the launchpad on the roof.

“Becca?”

Becca looked up at him, looking strangely small and fragile with her arms wrapped around a backpack, dressed in loose jeans and a sweater so large on her frame it could only be Thor’s.

“Steve,” she very nearly sobbed, and Steve moved before he consciously _thought_about doing so, striding across the platform to wrap his arms around her even before she began sobbing in earnest, and then dropped the backpack at their feet as she collapsed against him.

“Hey,” he hummed, trying not to get too freaked out about his best friend returning early from a trip with her boyfriend and bursting into tears right away.

“Hey, it’s okay. I got you. I got you, Becs. What’s going on?”

She mumbled something against his shoulder, the words muffled entirely so that even his enhanced hearing couldn’t pick it up. “I didn’t catch that,” he told her gently, although he was somewhat relieved that she wasn’t sobbing her heart out on his shirt anymore.

Becca sniffled against his shoulder, taking a few deep, shuddering breaths before she leaned back and looked up at him with red, teary eyes.

“I’m pregnant.”

——————————

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Thor and Becca find out that, while regular Aesir and humans can't conceive, Thor's status as a God of Fertility changes the rules, and they've gotten pregnant. Becca freaks out and Thor tries valiantly to keep her calm and to keep his father at bay; but Odin won't be delayed indefinitely, and Thor is forced to speak to his father, where he accidentally reveals Becca's pregnancy. 
> 
> Odin is intrigued rather than angry, and Thor then witnesses Sif reacting rather out of character and coolly to the news of Becca's pregnancy before Becca begs him to take her back to Earth. He complies, and the chapter ends with Steve finding Rebecca on the roof, revealing her pregnancy to him.


	8. The One Where Everyone is Being an Adult

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this is it! 
> 
> The next one... the next one is the one everyone's been waiting for, babies.   
Working on that now, and hopefully will have that done ASAP.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me, lovelies. 
> 
> Love,   
Annaelle (& Juulna, who is indispensable and without whom I could never do this).

# Chapter Eight

** _AMERICAN SUPPORT FOR GAY RIGHTS MAY LEAVE AFRICANS VULNERABLE!_ **

** _By Norimitsu Onishi_ **

_LAGOS, Nigeria — Suspicious neighbors and landlords pry into their private lives. Blackmailers hunt for victims on the social media sites they use to meet others of the same sex. Police officers routinely stop them to search for incriminating images and chats on their cellphones. _

_Since an anti-gay law went into effect last year, many gay Nigerians say they have been subjected to new levels of harassment, even violence. They blame the law, the authorities, and broad social intolerance for their troubles. But they also blame an unwavering supporter whose commitment to their cause has been unquestioned and conspicuous across Africa: the United States government. _

_“The U.S. support is making matters worse,” said Mike, 24, a university student studying biology in Minna, a town in central Nigeria, who asked that his full name not be used for his safety. “There’s more resistance now. It’s triggered people’s defense mechanisms.” _

_[…]Four years ago, the American government embarked on an ambitious campaign to expand civil rights for gay people overseas by marshalling its diplomats, directing its foreign aid, and deploying President Obama to speak before hostile audiences[...]Since 2012, the American government has put more than 700 million dollars into supporting gay rights groups and causes globally. More than half of that money has focused on sub-Saharan Africa — just one indication of this continent’s importance to the new policy. _

_America’s money and public diplomacy have opened conversations and opportunities in societies where the subject was taboo just a few years ago. But they have also made gay men and lesbians more visible — and more vulnerable.[…]other African nations weighing in on the situation for LGBT+ communities in Nigeria. King T’Chaka of Wakanda, a traditionally more reclusive nation, has expressed his intention to set up an outreach center for the at-risk population of Nigeria. _

_“Love has been considered simply love for centuries in Wakanda,” King T’Chaka said in a press conference, where he announced that his son, Prince T’Challa, would oversee the initial preparations for the center. “If we can help others achieve such calm and such peace in their lives, it is our duty to ensure it will be so. While we appreciate the support of the American government, the time has come for African nations to support each other”—Continued on Page 49 _

_—_Norimitsu Onishi, ‘_American support for gay rights may leave Africans vulnerable’_, The New York Times, 2 December 2015

——————————

**Personal floor Of Steve Rogers, Becca Barnes and Thor, Avengers Tower, Manhattan, New York, U.S.A. **

**December 3rd, 2015 – 8:04 AM **

**Pepper**

Pepper barely blinked when Steve opened the door with his hair askew, clad in sweatpants and a t-shirt that had clearly seen better days, with thick bags under his eyes.

“You look like shit,” she told him bluntly, because while she liked him well enough, she was a little grumpy about the fact he’d insisted she come down to his floor so early in the morning. She’d spent far too long throwing up this morning to pretend to be civil, and she was certain Steve would understand.

“Yeah,” Steve sighed, opening the door wide so she could come in. “I know.”

She pushed past him and walked into the apartment, stopping only for a moment to raise an eyebrow at the state of it. She’d never known Steve to be exceptionally tidy, but he was certainly not a messy person either—it was, therefore, a big surprise to see the otherwise neat room looking quite chaotic.

There were pillows and blankets strewn across the couches and floor, along with what looked like enough empty snack wrappers to feed a small army—or one supersoldier, she supposed.

“Had some fun?” she asked bemusedly, turning to look at said supersoldier with a raised eyebrow.

Steve sighed and shook his head. “Becca came home last night,” he began, pushing past Pepper to pick up some of the blankets. “She was… well, upset, to say the least.”

Pepper frowned and turned towards the bedrooms, where she assumed Becca was. “What happened?” she demanded, glancing towards Steve concernedly. “Is Thor with her?” Thor and Becca weren’t meant to return to Earth for a few weeks yet, and to hear that Becca had returned, apparently horribly upset, was more than just a little concerning.

“No,” Steve shook his head. “I mean, I think he came with her to bring her back and to make sure she was alright, but she told me she didn’t want him to stay, so he left.”

Pepper spun around. “Why would she—”

Steve raised a hand and shook his head before she could complete the question. “Look, I’ve already told you more than I intended to. Becca—Becca should tell you the rest herself. I—” He sighed. “I don’t think I’m qualified to help her in this.”

Pepper pouted, but conceded the point. If it was indeed something personal, then Becca did deserve the chance to tell her herself.

“Is she in her room?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Steve nodded wordlessly, and Pepper sighed before moving towards the bedrooms. Becca’s room was shrouded in darkness still, but she could make out Becca’s still form on the bed, hardly more than a lump of blankets.

“Is she asleep?” she whispered to Steve, who had followed her into the hallway and was leaning back against the wall behind her, looking for all the world like he was about to fall asleep where he stood.

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “Maybe? She was earlier, but she basically cried herself to sleep, so I don’t—I don’t know if she’s still asleep.”

He rubbed a hand through his hair, and Pepper was abruptly struck by how extremely _tired_he looked.

“Go to bed, Steve,” she told him sternly. “I’ll talk to her. We’ll be fine.”

The fact that he didn’t argue with her, only nodded tiredly before sulking off down the hallway to his own room, only reassured her that he _was_actually exhausted. She turned towards Becca’s room again, biting her lower lip as she tried to figure out what would’ve had the other woman so upset she’d spent the entire night crying in Steve’s arms rather than her boyfriend’s.

She would’ve assumed it a break-up, if not for the fact that she _knew_Becca and Thor’s relationship was about as rock solid as any relationship could be. Not only that, but if their relationship _had_been rockier than they’d shared with anyone else, Pepper was reasonably sure Thor would never have put so much effort into organizing the trip to Asgard.

No, the problem likely lay solely at Thor’s father’s feet.

From what she’d heard, the man had opposed the relationship for almost as long as Becca and Thor had been together, and he didn’t shy away from playing dirty to get what he wanted. She just… she couldn’t imagine _what_Odin could’ve said or done to make Becca decide to come home rather than stay with Thor—what he could’ve said or done to make Becca insist that Thor leave her alone.

She uncrossed her arms from over her chest and walked into Becca’s room, crawling onto the large bed with the younger woman and wriggling lightly until her head rested on the pillow next to Becca’s.

She remained quiet for a bit longer, listening to Becca’s breathing for a few minutes before she said, “I know you’re awake, Gummy Bear,” she said quietly, smiling a little when Becca huffed in annoyance before she rolled over to face Pepper.

“Hi,” Becca croaked. “Steve call you?”

Pepper nodded. “He’s worried. What’s going on, sweetheart?” She reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind Becca’s ear, fingers lingering on the younger woman’s cheek before she dropped her hand to the bed. “You know you can tell me anything.”

Becca’s eyes were suspiciously shiny, and her lower lip trembled. “I don’t—I don’t know how to say it.”

“Are you and Thor—” Pepper suggested carefully, but Becca interrupted her before she even finished speaking.

“No!”

Becca blinked, and Pepper thought they were both a little startled by the harsh denial.

“We’re fine,” she continued shakily. “It’s just…” She shook her head again and rolled onto her back, pushing her hand into her messy hair. Pepper kept her eyes on Becca as the other woman tried to collect her thoughts, trying to discern _anything _that would give her more of a clue as to what could have happened to freak her out this bad.

Becca heaved a sigh and rolled her head to face Pepper again. “I’m pregnant.”

Pepper blinked. “Oh.”

She looked away for a second, abruptly recalling Thor’s casual certainty that the pregnancy he sensed wasn’t Becca’s—_clearly_, he’d been mistaken there. “How did Thor take it?” she asked carefully, because she wouldn’t _ever_disrespect Becca by asking if the baby was Thor’s at all.

Becca scoffed quietly. “I think he’s ecstatic. Not that he’s told me that—he’s…” she exhaled roughly, voice thick with tears. “He’s trying _so hard_not to pressure me, but I—” she broke off and shook her head. “I can’t make this kind of decision on my own.”

She turned towards Pepper again, tears running down her cheeks, and choked, “I don’t _want_to do this on my own.”

“Oh, Gummy Bear,” Pepper breathed, opening her arms readily to catch Becca when she pitched forward, bursting into tears again. She rubbed her hand across Becca’s back as she sobbed, and immediately understood why Steve had looked so entirely exhausted.

She felt instantly _horrible_for thinking it, and held Becca a little tighter.

“Maybe you should tell him that,” she suggested softly, running her fingers through Becca’s hair like she’d been doing since Becca was an insecure teenager with a desperate need for a female role model in her life. “He might be a god, but he can’t read your mind, Becs. Maybe he’s scared too.”

“He wants kids,” Becca whispered, not lifting her head from Pepper’s shoulder. “I know he wants them, he’s told me that he does—it just… I didn’t think I… that we would ever…” She sniffed. “After Iraq, I put it out of my mind. No use in wanting what I couldn’t have. And then with Thor, I—it didn’t matter anyway, because we couldn’t. And now I…” she shrugged helplessly. “Now I don’t know what I want.”

Pepper swallowed thickly.

She hadn’t known the full extent of the consequences to Becca’s capture and torture, but she’d known some were long-lasting. She wondered if Tony and Rhodey had known—she supposed Rhodey _must’ve_known, given he had been with Becca for most of her recovery overseas, and Tony had barely left her side once she’d been returned to the States—and then decided it didn’t matter if they’d known.

All that mattered was that Becca was clearly having trouble processing the pregnancy.

“How about,” Pepper suggested slowly, thoughtfully, “you and I take a few days away. I know this spa that’s perfectly safe for pregnant people—designed for us, really. We can get massages, relax, and you can take the time to think things through, without having the pressure of everyone being there to ask you about it all the time. You can talk to me, or your grandmother, or your therapist, but you don’t have to.”

Becca was quiet for a beat.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “And then I need to talk to Thor. It’s not just my life.”

Pepper sighed. “No, it isn’t.”

“I just,” Becca croaked. “I love him. I don’t want this to break us.”

Pepper tightened her arms around Becca but didn’t say anything. Offering her a meaningless platitude wouldn’t help—she couldn’t promise that this _wouldn’t_break Becca and Thor. Things like these were deal breakers in relationships for a lot of people, and Pepper couldn’t say if it would be one for Thor and Becca too.

She didn’t think Becca knew if it was one either.

“You’ll figure it out, Gummy Bear,” she said softly. “You’re not alone in this. We got you.”

——————————

** _BREAKING: “IRON MAN AND CAPTAIN AMERICA ARRESTED BY NYPD OFFICERS FOR DESTRUCTION OF CITY PROPERTY AND RESISTING ARREST.”_ **

_4December 2015 — Cities are, of course, as we all know, hard places. Filled with concrete, asphalt, wood and steel surfaces, urban centers manifest their edge physically as well as metaphorically. Much of what makes cities seem unfriendly is not happenstance; they are intentionally engineered to keep us moving. The trick to urban design that creates discomfort, known as “hostile architecture”, is that its tools are hidden in plain sight. _

_[…]more aggressive forms of such “hostile architecture” have been popping up in recent years, to greater protest of city residents. […]problems with architectures of control is that they don’t discriminate. An uncomfortable bench is as uncomfortable for a homeless person as it is for a tired passerby or for someone looking for a place to read. Moreover […] doesn’t address the underlying problem of homelessness. _

_They simply shift it from one area to another, or worst still, reduce its visibility. _

_There have been many widespread campaigns insisting on the removal of such blatant “hostile architecture”, such as spikes and uncomfortable seating areas, if there are any at all. Many celebrities have put their names behind such campaigns, but none have been so blatant about their support as Tony Stark, also known as Iron Man, and Steve Rogers, better known as Captain America. _

_[…]both men were captured on camera as they destroyed several of such spikes and broke off an uncomfortably placed seat divide, constantly insincerely apologizing to the police officers who arrived at the scene shortly after, refusing to move until they had finished thoroughly destroying every spike and every trace of such “hostile architecture”. _

_[…]NYPD put out a statement saying that they indeed arrested two men in relation to the incident and charged them with property damage, but would release no names with the statement. _

_[…]James Rhodes was seen exiting the 1stPrecinct mere hours after the arrest was made, pinching the bridge of his nose, while Rogers and Stark high-fived behind him. There has been no official commentary from the Avengers Press Team, nor Stark Industries representatives. _

_—_[John Michael Kilbane](https://www.topic.com/john-michael-kilbane)_, ‘Iron Man and Captain America Arrested for Destruction of Public Property’, _Topic Online Magazine, 4 December 2015

——————————

**Tony Stark’s lab, Stark Industries R&D Floor, Avengers Tower, Manhattan, New York, U.S.A. **

**December 4th, 2015 – 7:31 PM **

**Steve**

“Uh,” Steve said, swinging his legs idly as he scrolled on his phone, frowning at the small screen in confusion. “Tony. Why is someone called Farhan Zaidi emailing me about meeting with him and a guy called Andrew Friedman at my earliest convenience?”

He was perched on one of the workbenches in Tony’s lab, where they had wisely retreated before Pepper got her hands on them—she was decidedly _unhappy_about the PR nightmare they’d created when they’d _accidentally_broken some exceptionally hostile benches and seating areas—listening to Tony’s chatter about something involving his Harley that he should probably be more concerned about.

Last time he’d given Tony free reign to tinker on his bike, he’d ended up with something that could’ve easily doubled as a rocket.

Tony looked up, hair wild and spiked in several gravity-defying directions, a smear of oil or grease on his cheek and grinned. “Because you’re the new owner of the Los Angeles Dodgers, Rogers. Gotta meet with your general manager and your president of baseball operations to talk shop. Financial projections, your yearly contribution to its funds, stuff like that.”

“What?”

Something a lot like panic burned hot in his chest, and he looked up at Tony abruptly. “Tony,” he choked. “I don’t know anything about running a baseball team! Or financial _projections_! I didn’t even finish _high school_, and I was _terrible at math_. _I made Bucky do my homework_.”

Tony looked up, likely disturbed by the abject panic in his voice, and his expression immediately softened into something more sympathetic. “Hey,” he said, getting to his feet as he wiped his hands on the nearest rag—which Steve suspected was an old band t-shirt. “Don’t worry about shit like that; I was kidding. We got other people to do that kind of stuff, alright? They probably want to meet their new celebrity owner, that’s all.”

Steve swallowed thickly and nodded shakily.

“Think of the children, Steven,” Tony said seriously, although he was barely hiding his smirk, and Steve snorted a laugh despite himself.

There weren’t a lot of things that set him off like this anymore, and most of them were triggers he hadn’t even known he had himself, so he was grateful to all of the other Avengers—and mostly Tony, who had surprised him by patiently showing him coping methods to get through the sudden panic—for not judging him when one came up so suddenly.

“Fine,” he chuckled. “Alright.”

Tony grinned when Steve relaxed, reaching out to poke him in the shoulder with the wrench he was still holding. “Also, I’m totally calling bullshit on you being bad at math—I’ve seen you calculate angles in a split second! You wield that physics defying shield of yours using the power of math, don’t deny it!”

Steve smiled and shook his head. “It’s not math,” he denied. “I mean—I just… I _look_, and then I know where to throw it and how to hit the wall to make it rebound.”

Tony snorted derisively. “It’s math, Rogers, don’t pretend.”

Steve chuckled and put his phone down, leaning back on his hands. “Sure, Tony.”

Tony just shook his head and retreated to the Harley, and the both of them fell silent for a few minutes before Tony piped up again. “_So_. You made your boyfriend do your homework. Tell me more, Steven. How did you _convince_him to do that? Were you able to make a compelling argument?” He waggled his eyebrows and Steve couldn’t help but laugh at the _ridiculous_expression he made.

“I didn’t have to convince him,” Steve chuckled. “He was a fucking _nerd_, he loved doing our homework. You realize we’re talking about the same guy that took me on a date to a science fair _for fun_.” He rolled his eyes at Tony and shook his head. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Stark.”

“No can do, _mon capitaine_,” Tony crowed. “It is my favorite summer home.”

“I’ll be sure to inform Pepper of that,” Steve deadpanned, reaching for the sketchbook and charcoal pencils Tony still denied he bought specifically for Steve, settling in to sketch Tony as he bent over Steve’s Harley again, trying to lose himself in the familiar scratch of the pencil on paper, relishing in the way it helped the buzzing in his head quiet down a little.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, Tony tinkering and Steve sketching, but when he looked up again, Tony had moved on to digging a screwdriver into one of his Iron Man gauntlets, frowning at the flickering blue light of the repulsor node as though it had personally betrayed him.

He had several completed sketches of Tony in various poses, and his hand stilled when he realized he’d somehow slipped into a sketch of Howard, bent over a workbench that held several rifles with Bucky by his side, an excited grin on his lips. Steve smiled when he recalled that day—he had been tied up in meetings for most of their stay on base, and Bucky had decided to bug Howard about upgrades to his rifle. Steve had found them six hours later, arguing heatedly about the best guns and the necessary upgrades to Bucky’s slightly alarming and continually growing weapons arsenal.

It’d been a good day.

“That my old man?”

Tony’s voice startled Steve from his reverie, and he looked up to find the man standing right in front of him, looking at the sketch with an entirely unreadable expression.

He nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said. “Talking guns with Bucky. Constantly trying to make upgrades.”

Tony snorted humorlessly, tossing the rag he’d been wiping his hands on aside carelessly. “Yeah. Figuring out how to make deadly weapons more efficient. Sounds like him alright.”

Steve winced.

He knew that Tony’s relationship with his father had been strained and that Howard had not been the best of fathers to his genius son, but it was difficult, still, to reconcile the memory of the joyous, enthusiastic man he’d known—annoying and arrogant as he may have been, at times—with the cold and callous father Tony described.

“Sorry,” Tony said gruffly, and Steve looked up, surprised.

Tony rolled his eyes at him and sighed. “I’m not entirely without self-awareness, Cap. The man I knew and the man you knew were _clearly_different people. The war… I think the war must’ve broken him. Must’ve hardened something in him—made him obsessive, angry…” Tony shrugged helplessly. “And he hated me because I wasn’t you.”

Steve looked away and shifted uncomfortably. He’d known that Howard was fond of him and Bucky, had liked hanging around with them, talking like he was part of the Howlies, like he was one of them, even though he was _never_a part of the fighting, even though he only supplied the weapons and stayed _far_from the blood-soaked, grueling reality of war.

“I don’t think he really knew me,” Steve said quietly. “I don’t think he _saw_me, really.”

Tony sighed. “That makes two of us.”

They were both silent for a moment before Tony heaved another, heavier, sigh and plopped down on one of his favored wheelie chairs, rubbing his hands through his hair, making it stick up even worse than it had been already. “Was he gay?” Tony blurted abruptly, and he looked about as surprised by his own question as Steve was.

Nonetheless, once it was out there, Tony seemed determined to continue.

“Do you think?” he added, shifting restlessly on his rolling chair. “I mean, I’m sure you might not know at all, but do you think he might’ve been—do you think that’s why he was so… so _obsessed_with you?”

Steve blinked, entirely caught off guard by the questions—by the _implication—_and shook his head.

“I thought,” he hesitated, “I thought he was in love with Peggy. I was surprised to hear he married someone else, when I woke up. That he had loved someone else enough to marry her.” Steve shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know, Tony. I don’t think he was gay, though.”

Tony shrugged. “I don’t know if there was a lot of love between my parents. To be honest, I always kind of figured they got married because she was pregnant with me.”

Steve bit his lip. “I’m sorry that he turned out the way he did,” he offered.

Tony shrugged. “I’m glad you weren’t like he described you,” he finally said, refusing to meet Steve’s eye. “I kind of don’t hate your ass, Rogers.”

“Awe,” Steve crooned at Tony, because he could tell Tony was uncomfortable talking about this, and Steve was nothing if not a bit of an asshole. “I love your ass too, Tony.” He tossed the sketchbook aside and leapt off the table, reaching out towards Tony as if to hug him, relishing in the way Tony shrieked when he realized what Steve was doing, slapping at his hands ineffectively.

“No!” Tony shouted, stumbling off his chair as if it was on fire, skidding around a table to get away from Steve. “Stay there, Rogers! You’ve not unlocked this level of friendship yet.”

Steve smirked before he pouted at Tony playfully. “Awe, Tony. Lemme love on ya a bit, yeah?”

“Nope,” Tony yelled as he fled the lab with Steve on his heels, making obnoxious kissing noises.

——————————

**Personal floor Of Steve Rogers, Becca Barnes and Thor, Avengers Tower, Manhattan, New York, U.S.A. **

**December 9th, 2015 – 3:01 PM **

**Becca**

As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, she exhaled, resting her back against its flat surface for a moment to gather her bearings. The spa Pepper had taken her to for the week had, despite her own expectations, helped to settle her increasingly frantic thoughts, and having Pepper to talk to had helped her sort through her thoughts and feelings about the… about the baby and what it meant for her future—with or without Thor.

She’d even talked it through with Steve a little.

She exhaled shakily and dropped her bag to the floor before crossing the room to collapse on her bed.

“Hey, Heimdall,” she said slowly, feeling a little stupid for essentially talking to thin air, but she figured it was the most surefire way to make sure Thor would get the message. He’d told her, once, that if she needed him when he was on Asgard, she just had to call for Heimdall and he would send for him.

She hoped that was still true.

“Could you—could you tell Thor I want to see him? Please?”

Predictably, there was no answer.

Becca heaved another sigh and kicked off her sneakers before wiggling up the bed until her head was comfortably situated on a pillow. She stared up at the ceiling for a long moment, hands folded together on her stomach, trying to prepare for what she needed to say to Thor when he got there.

She’d… not _practiced_, per se, more like... gone over what she needed to say with Pepper and Steve, but the prospect of actually having to have a serious discussion with Thor about their future for the first time in their entire relationship was _scary_. It wasn’t that they’d never had serious discussions, or that they avoided talking about the future entirely, just that…

Just that it was complicated.

It wasn’t just about what they wanted—their relationship had bigger ramifications than just for them. Thor was the crown prince of Asgard, and while Asgard wasn’t a human nation, she imagined their ideas about succession and heirs worked just about the same as they did on Earth.

If they kept the baby… They’d have to find out what that would mean for Asgard, for Thor, for the line of succession, and they’d have to find out how they wanted their relationship to progress from this point forward. _She_would have to decide if she could live with… with knowing that if she stayed with Thor, she’d be giving him a commitment for the rest of her life, _knowing_he couldn’t promise her the same kind of commitment.

She hadn’t… she hadn’t really let herself think about it.

She wanted Thor to be happy, of course, and if they did stay together, if Thor outlived her… she wouldn’t want him to have to mourn her forever, but…

It just _felt _unequal.

It felt _unfair _to both of them that, even if he’d want to, Thor wouldn’t be able to spend the rest of his life with her. She didn’t want it to feel like as much of a big deal as it did, because it wasn’t like this was _new_, or that she hadn’t known about this from the start, but here she was.

Her hand drifted down without any conscious thought, and she swallowed thickly when her fingers pressed against the slightly more sensitive skin on her lower belly. “I hope you know,” she said aloud, although she felt a little silly for talking to what was essentially a clump of cells at this point, “that whatever happens, your dad is going to _adore_you. And I… I will too, I think, for as long as I’m here. I just hope you won’t think too badly of me when I mess up.”

“I imagine if our child is anything like you, it could never think poorly of you, _Krúttið mitt_.”

She sat up abruptly and stared at Thor, who stood in the doorway, hair windblown and messy, dressed in the loose black trousers that he wore to sleep, and a long, red overcoat. He offered her a small, uncertain smile, but made no move to come closer without her say-so.

She swallowed thickly. “Hi,” she offered lamely.

Thor smiled indulgently—though _nervously_—and replied, “Hi, Becca.” 

“I missed you,” Becca blurted, cheeks heating a little as the words fell from her lips—that was _not_what she’d been meaning to say. She wasn’t sure what she _had_been trying to say, but it wasn’t that.

True as it might be.

Thor, however, took it in stride and moved into the room, closing the door behind him.

He didn’t move to sit on the bed—_their_bed—and made to sit in the armchair instead, but Becca suddenly couldn’t _stand_the distance between them anymore. “No,” she told him abruptly. “No, please, if… you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but—can you please sit with me?”

Thor remained still for a moment, halfway between the bed and the armchair, eyes searching hers for… _something_, before he nodded. “Of course,_Krúttið__mitt_.”

Becca watched, feeling far more nervous about being so close to Thor than she ever had before, as he approached the bed and crawled over to sit beside her. She exhaled shakily and leaned in, pressing their shoulders together—a simple touch that dispelled more of the tension between them than she’d expected it would.

“Have you—” Thor began carefully, “—have you been able to give our… our child some thought?”

She caught the way his hand twitched, and the way his eyes strayed towards her still-flat belly, and swallowed thickly. It took her a moment to decide to move, to decide that she needed to be able to look him straight in the eye while she said what she needed to say—

She sat up again and turned towards Thor, crossing her legs beneath her.

Thor mirrored her position without complaint and reached out to take her hands in his.

Becca swallowed and looked down at their hands for a moment before she said, “I need you to tell me what you want. I know you’ve been keeping your thoughts on… on _us_, on the baby, on what you really _want_to yourself because you didn’t want to pressure me with it, and I really appreciate that, but I _need_to know what you want now.” She swallowed against the tears that burned in her eyes and squeezed Thor’s fingers before she continued, “I can’t make this decision on my own, and I don’t _want_to either. Whatever we decide to do will have consequences for more than just us, and I think… I think we need to discuss them, at least.”

Thor nodded seriously. “I’ve not said anything to… to avoid putting more pressure on you.”

Becca smiled tightly and squeezed his hands again. “And I appreciate that. I needed the time to process this, and I have, but… I don’t think we can make a decision about _this_, about the future without talking about the consequences.”

“That is fair,” Thor nodded. “And I… I suppose you’re right. I hadn’t properly considered the consequences yet, but you are right in saying that we should.” He smiled at her and added, “I sense that you have questions—that there are things you need to know.” He squeezed his fingers around hers and swept his thumb across her knuckles. “Ask me what you want to know, _elskan min_.”

Becca nodded and looked down, thinking. “Would you name our baby your heir? Could you even do that if we’re not married? Do we need to get married—do you even want that? Was that what that dance meant, at the feast? And I mean… How would that even work, with our lifespans? And for that matter…Will the baby have your lifespan or mine?”

Thor blinked, and Becca felt momentarily bad for the barrage of questions she’d unleashed on him, before he chuckled and shook his head. “Never one to do things by halves, are you, _Krúttið mitt_?” 

She smiled sheepishly, and Thor chuckled again before his forehead creased into a frown. “I _would_name our child my heir,” he said decisively. “There are no definitive laws that state that I cannot, or that I must be married to the mother of said child, although…” He hesitated and looked up at her, “I would not be opposed. I did not think I would ever consider marriage after Loki, but… The intention _was_what I signified to the people when I danced _inn matki munr_with you, and I would _greatly_enjoy making the suggestion a reality—_if_you wanted that too.”

Becca stared at him.

“Oh,” she choked.

She… she wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to say, but it hadn’t been that. She’d been very careful not to think of their relationship as anything more than temporary because she _knew_how he felt about marriage after losing Loki, and because it seemed like _such_an impossibility for an Aesir _god_to want to marry a simple human.

She huffed.

This was like finding out about the baby all over again.

Maybe she should revisit her coping mechanism of not thinking about things she couldn’t have anyway—it’d blown up in her face twice now.

“Are you sure? she asked quietly. “You could marry an Aesir—someone like Sif. She’s beautiful, and I’m _sure_she loves you, even if you don’t think so. And I don’t think your father would try so hard to separate you as he does with us. He probably wouldn’t have you sleep in different wings of the palace, and he’d _definitely_acknowledge her as more than your ‘guest’.”

She snorted and shook her head.

“He’d probably rejoice. He was going to betroth you to her before Loki came along. It’d be so much easier...” she trailed off and looked away from him, her stomach tying itself in uncomfortable knots at the thought of Thor being with Sif instead.

She nearly jumped when Thor’s fingers suddenly touched her cheek lightly, tilting her chin up so she’d look at him. “Perhaps it would be easier,” Thor said frankly, softly. “But it would not be real, Rebecca. Not real like what you and I have managed to build _together_. I’ve told you before, _Krúttið mitt_, and I’ll say it again as often as you like: _I’m__yours_. However long you want me for, I’m yours.”

She swallowed thickly, blinking back tears as she looked at him. “What if that’s for the rest of my life?” she whispered, pulling his hand—the hand that was still curled around hers—to her belly, resting it just above where their baby was growing.

Thor rubbed his thumb over her cheek tenderly and smiled. “Then we will work hard to ensure we have the happiest life imaginable. Together.”

A tear ran down her cheek, and she smiled weakly. “…and if I want you for the rest of your life?”

Thor’s smile never wavered, even as he leaned in and pressed a feather light kiss to her lips. “Then I will find a way to give you that,” he whispered against her lips, resting their foreheads together.

Becca sobbed again, dryly and tiredly, and slung her arms around Thor, hugging him close and allowing him to manhandle her until they were stretched out on the bed together, pressed together from head to toe. 

“Thor?” she said quietly, leaning back a little so she could look at him without going cross-eyed. Thor moved back a little too, reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear, and Becca _loved_him. “I think I want to keep the baby,” she told him quietly.

Thor smiled, leaning in to kiss her briefly. “Me too,” he said when he leaned back. “Me too.”

——————————

**Residence of Samuel Wilson, Washington D.C., U.S.A. **

**December 12th, 2015 – 9:34 AM **

**Steve **

“So are we ever going to talk about it?”

Steve looked up from where he was drowning his pancakes in syrup and blinked at Sam, who was seated across from him at the kitchen island, both of them still dressed in their running gear. They’d gone running early that morning, despite Steve’s late arrival back in D.C. for the weekend the previous night, and Steve had thoroughly enjoyed running literal laps around Sam to annoy the other man.

He’d missed their easy comradery and Sam’s good-natured teasing, and it felt good to be away from New York for a bit. He loved it still—it was _his_city, after all, the city he’d died to save—and he enjoyed living in the Tower well enough, because he liked being so close to all of the others, but it got suffocating sometimes too.

Sam’s offer for him to stay the weekend had come at the perfect time—now that Becca and Thor had decided on their future, it was like they’d reverted back to the early stages of their relationship, where they were utterly unable to keep their hands off of each other.

Steve was a little tired of walking in on them _everywhere_.

Things had been a lot less tense at Sam’s place.

Up until now, of course.

“Talk about what?” he asked, innocently blinking at Sam, because he did have _some_idea of what it was that Sam meant, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to address it already. Their… their _thing_was mostly unspoken and Steve had let it be that way because he really did like Sam a lot, and he found him very attractive, but… but he still couldn’t really imagine _actually_actively being with him.

With anyone.

Sam gave him a flat look, and Steve relented, putting down the syrup and leaning his forearms on the kitchen island. “Sam,” he sighed, looking up at the other man from beneath his lashes. “Do we have to do this now?”

“We have to at some point,” Sam said reasonably. “I’d rather not keep avoiding it until we start resenting each other.” He shrugged. “We gotta talk about what we want _this_,” he gestured between them, “to be.”

Steve sighed. It wasn’t like they were constantly teetering on the edge of being friends and being more, but there _had_been plenty of moments where they’d passed firmly into the gray area between friendship and… _more_. Steve _knew_they needed to acknowledge those moments, that they couldn’t ignore them indefinitely, but… _God_, it was just easier to let things happen.

It’d worked well enough for Thor and Becca—who said it couldn’t for him and Sam?

He caught Sam’s eye and sighed again.

“Yeah,” he admitted, “yeah, okay. Look, it’s…” He rubbed his hands across his face and groaned. “I’ve spent the last few days watching my best friend _agonize _about whether her future would include the man she loved, or if they were just doomed for failure, if it’d be easier on them both if they gave up now—and she picked _him_. They chose each other, and _God_, I want that.” He looked up at Sam with watery eyes and smiled weakly. “I _want_that, Sam. I _miss_that. And I want more than anything to love someone like that again, but I don’t…” he shook his head. “I don’t think I can, and I don’t think I will any time soon either.”

He was a little surprised by his own expressiveness, but he _had_been thinking about it for a while, despite his reluctance to actually talk about it out loud.

Sam reached out and patted his hand comfortingly. “Look,” he said slowly, “I never expected you to be able to shrug off the loss of a fifteen-year relationship as intense as yours just like that, man.” He shrugged. “Lord knows it took me forever, and Riley and I had only been together a few years. Maybe our timing’s just… off.”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded. “Maybe.”

They were both silent for a bit before Steve continued, “So… I know we said just friends before, but… I really can’t handle more than a friend right now, so can we—can we just go to being friends for real this time? Is—is that okay?”

“Yeah, Steve,” Sam smiled, looking a little relieved, and a little sad. “That’s okay.” He grinned cheekily and added, “That does mean you should probably sleep on the couch tonight though.” Steve snorted a laugh and tossed a strawberry at Sam, who just ducked it and threw one of his own back.

They didn’t usually share the bed, but they’d both been exhausted by the time Steve made it to D.C., and Sam hadn’t made up the couch for him yet. 

Steve hadn’t minded the intimacy of it.

He’d been sharing beds with people for as long as he could remember; with his ma and Bucky, and later with the Howlies too, on colder nights during the war—it wasn’t something exclusive to his relationship with Bucky, and it didn’t trigger him so much as other things did.

Steve knew that Sam wouldn’t mind sharing the bed even now, whether they were friends or more, but he could see how it would be awkward tonight. As relaxed and easy and uncomplicated as it had been yesterday, he imagined that being semi-rejected by one’s semi-love interest was something Sam probably needed to wrap his head around.

He could probably do with the privacy.

Still.

Steve was a little shit at heart, and so he couldn’t just roll over and take it. “I’ll wrestle ya for the bed,” he told Sam cheekily, dodging another strawberry neatly.

Sam pointed his fork at Steve menacingly. “I will _beat_your skinny white ass.”

Steve gaped at him. “I’m a _supersoldier_,” he exclaimed. “I can literally punch through a wall. I punched a tank once.” He winced at the memory—not because he had actually managed to hurt himself, but because Bucky had been _furious_with him and had spent over an hour _yelling_at him after shooting every Nazi in his way in the face.

Sam chuckled. “Irrelevant. I know your weak spot.”

Steve narrowed his eyes at him, because he was fairly certain no one alive knew about the ticklish spot just above the back of his left knee, but it seemed like an awful big risk to take nonetheless.

“You win this round,” he told Sam reluctantly, and pointed his fork at the other man in a way that might’ve been menacing if there hadn’t been a piece of syrup-soaked pancake speared on its tines. “But watch your back, Wilson.”

Sam just chuckled.

—————————

### Undisclosed Hydra Base, New York City, New York, United States of America  
December 12th, 2015 – 3:32 PM

### Alexander Pierce

He watched detachedly as the technicians went through the procedure of thawing the Soldier, catching the man as he fell out of the tube and dragging the limp man across the room and securing him into the chair. Thick metal bands were secured around his wrists and ankles, and Pierce raised an eyebrow when the men went a step further and secured a similar kind of metal harness around the Soldier’s torso.

“A necessary precaution,” one of the doctors told him when he saw his expression. “It’s usually disoriented and violent when brought out of cryo—more so, according to records, when it’s due for new calibration.”

“Very well,” Pierce nodded. “How long will it take to get it operational again?”

The doctor shrugged. “Anywhere between ten and fourteen sessions.” He gestured to the notes he held and added, “According to Zola’s notes from the last time the Asset had to be recalibrated entirely, it took them seventeen months to rebreak him and then recondition him.”

Pierce ground his teeth. “Very well,” he hissed. “Get on with it then.” He turned on his heel, stalking out of the room, the door falling shut behind him just as the doctor began, “Желани—"

**To Be Continued in “Dancing in the Rain”.**


	9. Sequel Notification

The first chapter for the sequel to this little monster is now up! 

Thanks for your continued support, darlings! See you there :D 

Love, Annaelle


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